


Can't Fight This Feeling

by idratherhaveyou, kissmesexybatman



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 81,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idratherhaveyou/pseuds/idratherhaveyou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: Welcome to Pizza Planet, open til four A.M. Home to shitty food, an exclusively 80s jukebox, and minimum wage employees getting through life on tips and one another.When Keith gets a job as the new delivery boy, he wonders if it might become more than just a means to an end.Meanwhile, Lance just wants to know what the hell the new guy's damage is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! i hope you enjoy this take on the classic "shitty pizza joint" au. i couldn't decide whether i (kissmesexybatman, or [salterwatersky](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) wanted to write this myself or if i wanted the incomparably talented kelly (idratherhaveyou/[itsthegameilike](https://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/)) to give it a whirl, so we decided to do something crazy and collab it. each chapter is going to alternate between viewpoints, with me writing lance and kelly writing keith.
> 
> this has already been oodles of fun and i can't wait to see where we go from here, so without further ado...

“But is it… supposed to be green?” Lance was all doubt as he peered at the jar sitting on the stainless steel counter.

 

Hunk made a shooing motion at him as he put the jar back in the box and lifted it with ease, turning to take it back into the kitchen. “Of course it’s supposed to be green, it’s _pesto.”_

 

Lance leaned against the metallic slab and watched Hunk bustle around in the kitchen. “I know what pesto is, and that, my friend, is not pesto. It’s like-- like--”

 

“Toxic sludge from a cartoon,” Pidge suggested, barely looking up from her DS where she sat on the counter.

 

Lance snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly! It looks _poisonous,_ not edible.”

 

Pidge snorted, eyes still fixed on the screen. “When has anything that came out of this restaurant been edible?”

 

 _“Hey,”_ Hunk protested from the kitchen.

 

Lance hummed consideringly. “It kind of looks like a jar full of algae.”

 

“Poisonous algae?”

 

Hunk peeked around the doorframe to shoot them a glare. “You know, sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who actually _works_ around here.”

 

“That’s because you are,” Pidge told him cheerfully, shifting a little and rubbing her _gross dirty shoes_ all over the countertop.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay, one: your betrayal cuts me deep, Holt. How could you. And two: do you _have_ to sit up there?”

 

Still playing one-handed, Pidge lifted her fingers as she responded, deadpan. “A: I feel for you, really. And B: yes.”

 

“Gremlin,” Lance grumbled, snaking a hand out to tug a loose piece of her fluffy hair as he made his way out from behind the counter. She responded by planting a foot between his shoulderblades and shoving, _hard,_ cackling as he stumbled.

 

Lance pointed his wet rag at her threateningly. “One of these days, Pidgeon, I’m gonna make you into a down comforter.”

 

Her attention was already back on her game. “Get new jokes, Lancelot, the bird thing’s all played out.”

 

Hunk snickered in the kitchen and Lance shot the open doorway a glare. Traitors, all of them. Huffing, he turned to clean the tables, checking his watch as he took the scant four steps between the counter and the three ancient, stained vinyl booths. It was just after ten thirty, barely a quarter of the way through his shift, and Lance sighed as he wiped down the already crumb-free table.

 

From the outside, Pizza Planet looked like it had gone out of business a decade ago. On the inside, it only looked marginally better, thanks to Lance and Hunk’s efforts over the last three years. They had both needed jobs when they moved into town for college, something with a lot of hours late at night and a boss who wasn’t too picky about their mostly empty resumes. Thankfully, Hunk had noticed the tiny “Help Wanted” sign in the window of the pizzeria as they walked out of the arcade bar next door, freshly rejected by the manager there, as they were still minors.

 

Overall, it had been a good job for them, really. Sure, the pizza was fucking _shitty,_ despite Hunk’s best efforts and entirely thanks to Coran’s inability to order them decent supplies, the decor had several decades worth of age and pizza sauce ground in, and the jukebox only had the best hits of the 80s, but it was Lance’s shitty job and he liked it.

 

When Coran had hired them three years ago, the pizzeria was on the edge of failure. It had been struggling for what Coran asserted was “a short while” and Lance was positive was “forever,” and the recent opening of the arcade bar next door looked like it was the end of the tiny, kitschy restaurant. It was only due to the swift and frankly _genius_ thinking of Coran’s angelic niece, Allura, that the business didn’t fail. She suggested they extend their hours, relying on the desperation of drunken bar-goers and college students alike to buy their questionable product during the wee hours of the morning when nothing else was open.

 

So Hunk and Lance had become the night employees, Hunk manning the kitchen and doing his best to keep everything at least food-adjacent, Lance taking orders over the counter and by phone, interpreting slurred orders so well he had it down to an art. They were here five nights of the week, eight to four, when Hunk would drive them back to their shared apartment and they’d crash until their afternoon classes.

 

It was a good system. It _worked,_ and kept them both housed and clothed and fed (not on Planet pizza, thank Christ), and they were slowly making their way through college. Life was good, honestly; Lance was happy with it, happy with his shitty job and shitty apartment. College was-- another story, some days, but it was fine. He was halfway through a biology degree. He could do this.

 

He realized, suddenly, that he’d been scrubbing at the same faded Sharpie dick on the table for the last few minutes without making any difference, and straightened up, glancing around furtively. Pidge was watching him with a raised eyebrow, because of course she was; the gremlin had a sixth sense for people doing dumb things in her general vicinity. Or maybe just Lance.

 

“All right there, McClain?” she drawled, pulled a Pixie Stix out of her pocket and tearing it open with her teeth.

 

He chucked the rag at her face in response and she ducked it, Matrix-style, flipping him off as she went back to her game and he wandered over to the jukebox. Pidge’s head snapped up suspiciously as he pulled a handful of quarters out of his pocket, and he stared her dead in the eye with a slowly-widening grin as he slid them into the machine, one by one.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

“You asked for this.”

 

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “Please, Lance, I am _begging_ you.”

 

He didn’t break eye contact as he pressed the same button on the machine nine times in a row.

 

Pidge dropped her head into her hands with a loud groan as the first strains of music filtered out of the scratchy old speakers and Lance launched into the song, bouncing his shoulders to the beat.

 

Coran chose that exact moment to come out of his tiny office. “Ah, what are we listening to tonight, chaps?”

 

“Auditory torture,” Pidge said, slumping over sideways as Lance leaned down and sang directly into her face.

 

Coran listened for a moment before nodding approvingly. “George Michael. An excellent choice, Lance.”

 

Lance shot him a wink and fingergunned as he continued belting “Faith” into Pidge’s ear.

 

“And shoes off the counter, Number Five,” Coran scolded her.

 

With a heavy sigh, Pidge dangled her legs off the edge of the counter, and Coran nodded in satisfaction.

 

“Well, it looks like everything is under control here,” Coran said, raising his voice as the music rose, bolstered by Lance’s enthusiastic accompaniment. “I’ll be off then. Oh, and don’t forget, Lance, the new delivery boy is starting tonight. He said he would be a bit late, but he should be here soon.”

 

And _finally,_ to Pidge’s relief, Lance stumbled on George Michael’s sweet sweet lyrics. “Wait, waitwaitwait, he’s starting _tonight?”_

 

Coran nodded, distractedly flipping through a stack of papers he was holding. “Oh yes. Hunk is much too busy to have you gone for _another_ night, and we’d hate to have another incident like last week.” He looked up to shoot Pidge a pointed look.

 

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault Hunk asked me to answer the phones!”

 

“Hm,” Coran said, in a tone that implied it was, in fact, entirely her fault. “Anyways… Yes, Lance, thank you for running delivery for the last week, but you’re back on regular duty now.”

 

“Sure,” Lance said, trying to suppress the surge of disappointment in his chest, because yeah, he loved his job, but delivery was fun in its own way, driving around the dark and silent city and blasting music and knocking on the doors of some truly _interesting_ people. It had been an emergency thing, just a stopgap since their last delivery boy, Rollo, left with no notice and Coran hadn’t had the time to find a replacement for him yet.

 

In all honesty though, as fun as the change had been, Lance had kind of missed his usual job. He missed Hunk, talking to himself and the majority of the kitchen implements, missed the faded and stained vinyl and laminate pizzeria, even missed Pidge’s constant presence, so he let a grin creep across his face and pumped his fist in the air. “I’m back, baby!”

 

“When can you leave again?” Pidge grumbled from the counter, and Lance loudly and pointedly began singing once more.

 

“Good enthusiasm, Number Three!” Coran praised him, and Lance high-fived him as he passed. The door let in a cold blast of air as he pushed through it, bell tinkling, and as soon as it shut Pidge pulled her shoes back up onto the counter.

 

The first playthrough of “Faith” faded out, and the strains of an organ echoed through the tiny pizzeria again.

 

“How many times did you play this?” Pidge asked, resigned, and Lance shrugged as he danced his way back behind the counter.

 

Leaning around the doorway into the kitchen, he started, “Hunk, did you hear--” before cutting himself off with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose. “Holy crap, what is that _smell?”_

 

Hunk was frowning at a jar full of green goo, a significant amount missing. “Pesto? I think. I was pretty sure, anyways.”

 

Pidge’s head slid around the doorway just below Lance’s, an expression of mixed admiration and horror on her face. “I knew it was toxic.”

 

“No, no,” Hunk said distractedly, peering at the label. “It’s got too many preservatives for that.”

 

“Riiight, so all we have to worry about is the cancer, then?” Lance snorted.

 

A guilty expression crossed Hunk’s face. “I would, but given what I’ve been serving for the last three years...”

 

“Well, as long as it’s nothing new,” Lance muttered.

 

Pidge shook her head below him. “This is why I never eat the food here.”

 

Lance looked down at her. “And yet we still let you stay.”

 

“I’m part of the charm.”

 

Hunk considered the jar for a long second before turning to them and holding it out. “I dare one of you to try this.”

 

“No way in hell,” Lance snorted, as Pidge gave Hunk a flat stare. “I value my life.”

 

Hunk look back down at the jar again. “Ten bucks?”

 

Lance brightened. “Will you pay in quarters?”

 

“For the love of god, Hunk,” Pidge pleaded, “spare me.”

 

A wicked grin spread across Lance’s face. “Wait, I have a better idea. Hand it over, dude.”

 

Obligingly, Hunk handed him the jar, and Lance snatched it lightning quick and whirled on Pidge, digging a handful of the slimy gloop out of the jar and reaching out for her.

 

 _“No,”_ she shrieked, jerking backwards just in time to avoid a faceful of pesto. “Hunk, help me!”

 

Hunk held his hands up. “I’m a neutral party.”

 

“You gave him the jar!”

 

“I did. I did do that.”

 

“Vengeance!” Lance howled, chasing Pidge into the front of the store. She ducked another swipe and knocked his hand away, sending the glob of pesto flying onto the wall.

 

They all stopped and considered it for a second.

 

“Think that’ll come off?” Lance asked.

 

“No, but honestly, what’s one more stain?” Hunk peered at it. “It kind of looks like Coran’s mustache.”

 

Lance frowned at it thoughtfully. It kind of did.

 

Another blast of cold air swept through the pizzeria as the door swung open with a tinkle of the bell, and the customer stepped up to the counter, sweeping a quizzical look over the three of them clustered around the newest addition to the pizzeria’s stain gallery. Lance plastered his wide, patent-perfect Customer Service Smile™ on his face and surreptitiously wiping the remains of the pesto onto his apron as he leaned casually against the counter. “Hey, how can we help you?” In the background, George Michael looped yet again.

 

The guy still stood there, glancing around the restaurant with an expression quickly sliding towards skeptical. “Um, hey. I’m supposed to be working here?”

 

“Ohhh,” Lance hummed, eyeing him more critically now. He looked like he was about the same age as Lance and Hunk, early twenties, with long, shaggy dark hair, black skinny jeans and a black V-neck shirt under a red and white leather jacket. The overall effect was stuck somewhere between 80s rocker reject and 2006 MySpace band boy. “Delivery boy, right?” Lance asked, eyes fixed on what he was becoming more and more sure was a mullet.

 

The new guy nodded, looking back at him with just as much scrutiny, eyebrows drawing together in a faint scowl. “Yeah. Glad I found you guys.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow. “What, you forgot where you got hired?”

 

He shrugged and glanced around again. “It doesn’t really look open from the outside.”

 

“It says we’re open in the window,” Lance pointed out, jerking his head at the buzzing neon sign.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

And that just rubbed Lance the wrong way, because honestly, who _was_ this Billy Joel/Gerard Way hybrid to think he could come into Lance’s pizza place and judge them to the staticky strains of George Michael?

 

Lance scowled. “You know, I still don’t think we need a new delivery boy.”

 

“Good thing it’s not up to you,” Pidge snorted, hopping back onto the counter and retrieving her DS.

 

“Also, we do actually need a delivery boy,” Hunk pointed out. “Unless you want Pidge to keep answering phones.”

 

Lance considered that for a second. “Okay, fine, we need a new delivery boy.”

 

“Great,” the guy snapped, taking another couple steps forward, but Lance kept talking like he’d never spoken.

 

“But does it have to be _him?”_ Lance gestured. “I mean, he looks like an extra from _Twilight.”_

 

 _“Lance,”_ Pidge and Hunk groaned, exasperated and perfectly in sync.

 

New Guy’s scowl deepened, and he gave Lance another brief, considering once-over before saying, “That coming from the main character in a _Freaks and Geeks_ reboot?”

 

Lance’s jaw dropped, Pidge cackled, and even Hunk let out a muffled snort of laughter. Turning his outraged look on his friends for a second, Lance pointed a finger at the new guy. “Yeah? Well you’re-- You--” Pidge almost fell off the counter laughing as Lance spluttered. Hunk, thankfully, was close enough to catch her.

 

The guy raised an eyebrow, a tiny smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Yes?”

 

“Fuck off,” Lance finally said, and it sounded about as lame as he felt. The guy just rolled his eyes.

 

Hunk stepped forward, holding a hand out over the counter. “Hi, I’m Hunk. Our counter ornament here is Pidge. You’re Keith, right?”

 

Vampire Fanboy nodded, returning Hunk’s handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Betrayal three times in one night was too much. Lance gave Hunk his most wounded look. “How do you know his _name?”_

 

“Because Coran told us? Three days ago?”

 

“What? No he didn’t.”

 

“He did, actually,” Pidge interjected. “When he told you he was starting tonight.” She waved at Keith. “Hey.”

 

Lance scowled at her. “Obviously _not._ Where was I?”

 

“Singing along to ABBA and dancing with the mop,” she tossed back.

 

Oh. Lance did vaguely remember Coran coming out of his office the other night in the middle of “Dancing Queen” _._ “Everyone knows you can’t tell people important information while ABBA is playing,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

 

“Strangely,” Pidge drawled, “it’s never a problem for anyone else.”

 

Lance snagged his damp rag off the counter and flicked it at her. She didn’t even flinch.

 

Hunk sighed and turned back to Keith. “Sorry about them. I can show you around.”

 

Keith walked over as Hunk gestured him behind the counter. “Are they always like this?”

 

“You mean delightful?” Lance draped himself across Hunk’s shoulders.

 

“Usually,” Hunk answered Keith, amiably dragging Lance with him as he ducked back into the kitchen to show Keith the rack where they stacked the pies ready for delivery.

 

The phone rang as Hunk was showing Keith the storage areas, and Lance slipped out of the kitchen to answer it and take the order of the obviously faded customer.

 

By the time he’d finished walking the stoned student through the process of ordering a pizza, Keith emerged from the kitchen with a stack of boxes in his arms and a frown on his face as he read over the list in his hand. Lance leaned around the doorway to slap the new order onto Hunk’s assembly counter before leaning against the doorway and shooting Keith a smirk. “So, think you’ve got it?”

 

Keith shot him a flat look. “It’s pizza delivery, not rocket science.” Still, his frown didn’t waver. “It’s just-- I’m new to town. What does this mean?” He pointed at an address on the list, and Lance leaned in to peer at Hunk’s scribbles.

 

“Oh, the Castle. It’s a big apartment complex on the south side of campus-- like, _huge._ Literally, it takes up whole blocks. Hunk and I live there, actually, in B block, but--” the pointed to a letter on the list-- “you’re going to D.”

 

“You make it sound like a prison,” Keith said, taking the list back and carefully stabilizing the stack of boxes in his arms.

 

Lance considered it. “Well…”

 

“It is,” Pidge cut in, now flat on her back on the counter, frowning in concentration at her DS.

 

“It was designed by a prison architect,” Lance corrected, trying to flick her on the nose. She snapped at his fingers, missing by a hair as he jerked back. “It’s not an _actual_ prison.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

 

Keith glanced between them. “... Right. Guess I’m off.”

 

Hunk leaned out of the kitchen, looking apologetic, and a grin spread across Lance’s face as he realized what was about to happen. “One last thing, actually, and for the record, I am so sorry about this.” With a solemn expression, Hunk pressed a bundle of bright red fabric into Keith’s free hand.

 

Keith gave it a horrified look. “No,” he breathed.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Lance said, still beaming. Pidge snickered from the counter.

 

The uniform got a long stare from dark eyes before Keith looked back up at them. “No,” he repeated, firmly.

 

Hunk scratched the back of his head, shifting his favorite old yellow bandana where it was tied across his hair. “Coran insists on it,” he explained, still with that sympathetic tone in his voice. Lance leaned his chin in his hand and enjoyed the show. “Every delivery person so far has had to wear them.”

 

“‘Them?’” Keith echoed, setting the boxes on the counter for a second to unroll the cloth bundle. Out came a violently red shirt with bright blue letters spelling out PIZZA PLANET across the back and chest with a matching baseball hat. He groaned.

 

Hunk clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen, how about tonight you just wear the hat?”

 

“The hat is the _problem,”_ Keith muttered, eyeing it distastefully.

 

Apparently, Hunk had run out of sympathy for the night, because he shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. “Just wear it for the actual deliveries, then.”

 

Keith muttered something under his breath and shoved the hat in the pocket of his motorcycle jacket, scooping the boxes back up and heading for the exit.

 

“Have fun storming the castle,” Lance called after him, receiving yet another blank look in response as Keith pushed through the door. It had barely closed behind him when he turned to Pidge. _“What_ a douchebag.”

 

Pidge snorted, tapping madly at her DS. “You’ve only known him for like, two minutes.”

 

“It has been at least three. “Faith” looped again. But seriously, who doesn’t at least _smile_ at a _Princess Bride_ reference?”

 

“Have you considered that maybe he was just put off by your shitty attitude?” Pidge’s brows raised as she spoke, glancing at him.

 

Lance gaped at her. “I do _not_ have a shitty attitude!”

 

“You do, actually.” Pidge cursed under her breath and hammered at the buttons again. “What’s stuck up your butt, huh?”

 

Lance crossed his arms and scowled at her. “There is nothing up my butt, thank you. My butt is free of foreign objects.”

 

“Disgusting.”

 

“You brought it up.”

 

“And I regret it deeply.” She sighed as, presumably, her character died again, snapping the screen shut and swinging herself up to face Lance. “Listen, there’s obviously something bothering you, so what’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Lance muttered, leaning back against the stained yellow wall.

 

Pidge eyed him for a second. “Okay, you can tell me right now, or I’ll go unleash Hunk to drag it out of you.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “You wouldn’t.” She opened her mouth wide and drew in a deep breath, and he lunged forward to clamp a hand over her face. “Okay, okay, you would! Point made.” He let go with a disgusted noise as she licked his hand.

 

“Seriously--” her voice was a little muffled as she rubbed her sleeve across her face-- “what’s going on?”

 

“It’s seriously nothing,” Lance insisted, grabbing his rag again and wiping the smudges from her shoes off the counter.

 

She watched him polish the stainless steel for a long moment before snapping her fingers and pointing at him. “You’re _jealous.”_

 

“I am _not.”_

 

“You totally are,” she crowed, and he scowled fiercely at her as he went to clean the counter on the other side of the calzone warming case. She sobered up and hopped off the counter, finally, to follow, leaning up next to him. “Okay, I’m sorry. But what’s the deal? I thought you _liked_ this job.”

 

“I _do_ ,” he said, but it came out more whiny than assertive, and he sighed. “I do,” he repeated, “but I liked delivery too. And I liked Rollo _.”_ Pidge cast him a disbelieving look; Rollo had been difficult to work with on the best of nights, and those were few and far between. Lance gestured vaguely. “Okay, he was a dick, but you know what I mean. I just…” He frowned down at the shiny counter.

 

Pidge nodded next to him. “You just don’t like a stranger coming in and rearranging things.”

 

Lance glowered at a scratch in the metal beneath his fingers and said nothing.

 

“That’s life,” Pidge told him, bluntly.

 

Lance shot her another glare. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

 

She nudged him with her elbow. “Seriously, Lance, you can’t keep things from changing forever. And it’s not this guy’s fault. Rollo chose to leave, and Coran had to hire someone to replace him. It wasn’t up to Keith, he just applied for the job.”

 

Silence fell for a second as Lance turned her words over. “You know, for someone who skips most of her classes, you sure have a lot of wisdom to offer.”

 

“It’s a burden, not a gift,” she returned, deadpan, as she leaned across the counter to grab a garlic knot out of the case. Her nose wrinkled as she chewed. “God, why does anyone eat here?”

 

“Desperation.” Lance pointed at the garlic knot. “You know you have to pay for that, right?”

 

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, sure.” She returned to her place on the counter, still chewing.

 

“And I still don’t like him. He looks like a roadie from the 70s rolled through Hot Topic.”

 

Pidge hummed distractedly. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

 

“Whatever.” Pidge didn’t respond, attention refocused on her game. “He’s a douchebag,” Lance mumbled, glaring out the windows at the group of drunken college kids stumbling out of the bar next door.

 

Hunk leaned out of the kitchen. “Hey, Lance, can you help me with this order? I think that pesto might be flammable. The oven’s all smoky.”

 

Lance groaned and followed him into the kitchen.

 

***

 

The hour-long cycle of George Michael had finally come to an end by the time Keith got back. Pidge had actually cheered when the last repetition faded out, replaced by the opening chords of a Journey power ballad.

 

She’d abandoned her DS in favor of tapping away at something on her tablet, squinting at the screen with a look of concentration. Lance had learned long ago it was better not to ask; she could unload technical jargon about programming at speeds approaching the sound barrier. He was restocking the utensils and napkins dispensers sitting on the end of the counter, humming along to the Earth, Wind & Fire song playing on the jukebox. It was only barely audible over the booming music pounding through the wall from the bar next door-- they always turned it way up after midnight.

 

Keith pushed through the door with an empty bag, looking slightly frazzled.

 

“How’d it go?” Lance asked through his grin. He already knew how it went. He’d gotten a call from a customer complaining about a late delivery ten minutes before.

 

“I got lost in the stupid Castle,” Keith grumbled.

 

Lance leaned back against the counter, still grinning. “Well hey, rookie, no one bats a thousand on the first go.” Keith shot him a glare and ran a hand through his shaggy hair with a sigh.

 

“If it makes you feel better, Lance once lit the oven on fire,” Pidge said.

 

Lance squawked in outrage as Keith huffed a laugh. “How’d he do that?”

 

Pidge shrugged. “Hunk was on his break and he got distracted trying to flirt with a stoned frat bro.”

 

 _“Pidge,”_ Lance shrieked, feeling the flush creep into his cheeks, and Keith laughed again, just a little.

 

She continued like he hadn’t said anything. “I mean, the flirting is classic Lance, but I still don’t understand the effort for a frat boy.”

 

“That’s it,” Lance declared, throwing his rag down. _“Hunk!”_

 

Hunk leaned around the kitchen doorway. “What’s up?”

 

“I’m taking my thirty.” Lance untied his apron as he spoke, glaring at Pidge. “The _constant abuse_ is killing me.”

 

“Okay,” Hunk said cheerfully. “Hey, Keith. I’ll have the next round ready in ten.”

 

Keith nodded, hesitating in the middle of the pizzeria like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Lance brushed by him on the way to the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’m going next door.”

 

Hunk waved in acknowledgement as he vanished back into the kitchen and Lance pushed the door open, stepping outside.

 

It was _cold_ out. It was barely October, but the chill in the air spoke of the coming winter, and Lance shivered, kind of wishing he had grabbed his jacket, even though it was only twenty feet to the door of the arcade bar.

 

The door tinkled behind him, and Lance glanced over his shoulder to see Keith following him, not quite able to hold back the snap of, “What do _you_ want?”

 

Keith frowned at him and nodded at the bar. “Nothing. I’m just grabbing a drink.”

 

Lance screeched to a halt. “A _drink?_ Seriously?”

 

“A soda _,”_ Keith clarified. “Chill.”

 

Lance gave him another long, suspicious glare. Keith sighed and pushed past him, headed for the bar doors, and now Lance was the one following. “Hey, I’m watching you!”

 

“You do that,” Keith said with a sarcastic lift of his eyebrows, and Lance would have launched in on him, but he vanished through the doors.

 

“Asshole,” Lance muttered before following him in.

 

The arcade bar was always disorienting when you first walked in, pop music blasting at near-lethal levels and pitch black except for the flashing neon lights of the retro arcade games lined up in short aisles along the walls. Even so, Keith had stopped just inside the door, and Lance almost collided with his back. “Look out, geez.”

 

Keith shot him a glare as he shoved by and headed for the bar on the back wall. Even back there, it was dark, more colorful neon and blacklights giving off just enough light to see by.

 

Lance squeezed in next to a group of giggling drunk college coeds, giving them a wink as he leaned against the bar. He was vaguely aware of Keith hovering behind him still as he reached over to catch Matt’s attention with a wave.

 

Matt grinned back and grabbed a can of RedBull before coming over, plopping it down on the counter in front of him, and Lance gave an appreciative hum as he cracked it open. “You’re a lifesaver, Matty.”

 

“Call me that again and I break your fingers,” Matt threatened. It would have been more intimidating if the kid didn’t look like a strong breeze would take him out, but Lance raised his hands in surrender, taking a gulp of RedBull. He wasn’t about to piss off his caffeine supplier.

 

And then Matt nodded at Lance’s annoying mulleted shadow and said, “Hey, Keith,” and Lance choked on his mouthful of sugary, caffeinated death.

 

“Wait, waitwaitwait, you _know_ him?” Lance croaked, eyes watering.

 

Matt gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah? So, first night, huh?”

 

The last part was directed at Keith, who had squeezed into the spot next to Lance that the college girls had just vacated. He nodded, eyes searching through the darkness of the bar. “Yeah. It’s been fine.”

 

“Except for getting lost,” Lance muttered, and there was no way Keith actually heard him over the deafening Katy Perry song playing but he gave him a nasty look anyways.

 

“Want a Coke?” Matt asked before Keith could say something, and he nodded. Matt disappeared behind the bar for a few seconds before popping back up with a can in hand, setting it down in front of Keith with a wink. “On the house.”

 

Keith actually _smiled_ at that. He looked almost human. “Thanks, Matt.”

 

“You got it. Hey, so you finally met my sister, huh?”

 

Keith’s forehead wrinkled as he took a sip of soda. “You said her name was Katie.”

 

Matt rolled his eyes. “It is.”

 

“It’s Pidge now,” Lance snickered, taking another sip of RedBull. He could already feel the caffeine buzzing through his veins, fighting off the first heavy threads of exhaustion. He’d been doing this job for three years, so he was used to the unusual sleeping schedule at this point, but he’d had a project to finish that morning and he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “It’s a long story,” Matt grumbled. “Fuck off, Lance.”

 

Lance grinned at him. “You’re just jealous that your sister likes hanging out with me better.”

 

Matt snorted. “Keep her. I’ll go grab Shiro for you,” he told Keith, walking over to the other bartender on the far end of the bar and tapping him on the shoulder.

 

Lance raised an eyebrow at him. “What, you know Shiro too?”

 

“He’s my brother,” Keith said, taking a long swig of Coke as he stared across the bar, attention pulled back to Lance with a start as he choked again.

 

 _“What? You’re_ the little brother Shiro always talks about?” Lance spluttered.

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

“Holy shit.” Lance took a second to cough the last of the RedBull out of his lungs. “Small world.”

 

Keith shrugged. “I guess.” There was a pause as they both sipped at their drinks, Katy Perry’s wailing filling the silence between them. “Pidge doesn’t work at the pizza place, then?”

 

Lance wrinkled his nose at him. “Be honest, do you even remember the name of the restaurant?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Pizza Planet. It’s hard to forget since there’s a spaceship on the damn boxes.”

 

“Ooh, _‘damn,’”_ Lance mocked. “You’re so fucking cultured, dude.” He took another considering sip, ignoring the daggers Keith glared at him. “Matt started working here when the bar opened--”

 

“I know,” Keith interrupted. “Same time as Shiro.”

 

It was Lance’s turn to give him a sharp look. “Right. Well, like I was _saying,_ Pizza Planet turned into a late night joint around the same time. Trying to pick up on the bar customers and all that. So Coran hired me and Hunk to work the late night shift.” He shrugged. “Pidge wanted to tag along with Matt, since they live together and whatever, but she was a minor so she had to leave at nine. Well, she’s _still_ a minor,” he amended, “at least for another few months. Anyways, she started hanging out at the Planet until Matt got off work, doing homework and whatever, and she just never left. The rest is history.”

 

“But you’re friends, right?”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. _“Obviously,_ dude, sheesh. You think I let just anyone talk trash to me like that?”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Befriend every repeat customer?”

 

Lance laughed at that, loud and honest. “Wait til you actually try the pizza, man. We don’t get a whole lot of _repeat customers.”_ He enunciated his words with air quotes.

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll need to see your IDs,” came a voice, and Lance looked up at Shiro. A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, a teasing gesture surprisingly similar to Keith’s earlier.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. “Hey, what gives, Shiro? You never told me I was about to become coworkers with your little brother.”

 

“I didn’t know until yesterday,” Shiro said, turning a reproachful eye on Keith, who muttered something lost in the beat of the music. Shiro shook his head, a fond expression usually reserved for Matt on his face. “How’s the first night going?”

 

Keith shrugged eloquently, and Shiro raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

 

Lance checked his watch pointedly. “It’ll be worse if you’re late delivering the next round.” He tapped the face pointedly. “Hunk said ten.”

 

“Shit,” Keith hissed, pushing himself out of his comfortable lean on the bar. “Sorry, Shiro, I’ll see you later.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll swing by after my shift,” Shiro said, watching with another half smile as Keith nodded hastily and vanished into the crowd before turning to Lance. “You get promoted or something, mister hardass?”

 

Lance spread his hands innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just committed to satisfactory customer service.”

 

Shiro snorted. “Sure, Lance. Speaking of that, I have to get back to work. Matt’s getting swarmed.” He gazed over at his weedy boyfriend with another of those soft smiles.

 

Lance faked a gag. _“Gack,_ dude. Can you guys go be young and in love somewhere I _don’t_ have access to potentially lethal amount of booze?”

 

Shiro pointed a stern finger at him. “You don’t have access to _shit_ without my say-so, young man.”

 

“Yes, _Dad.”_

 

“Curb the sass. I’ll see you later.” With a wave and a smile, Shiro headed back down the bar, refilling empty glasses and taking orders.

 

Lance lingered for another minute, chugging down the last of his RedBull before wandering over to some of the arcade games. He was still trying to beat Hunk’s high score in Galaga.

 

Twenty minutes and several dollars worth of quarters lighter, Lance trudged back to the Planet. Pidge looked up from her perch on the counter at the tinkle of the bell, taking in Lance’s disgruntled expression. “Still trying to beat Hunk’s score?”

 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, retrieving his apron from under the counter and tying it on.

 

“You’ll never do it.”

 

“I’m aware,” he gritted out. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

 

Pidge was tapping away at her DS again. “Someone called to order a pizza and I’m pretty sure there was an orgy going on in the background.”

 

A sharp laugh burst out of Lance. _“Please_ tell me they got delivery.”

 

A familiar wicked grin spread across Pidge’s face. “Gotta break the rookie in, right?”

 

Lance leaned over to give her a high five. “Pidge, you’re officially back in my good books.”

 

“Let’s be real, Lancelot,” she said, leaning over to slap his hand, “I never left them.”

 

“Dream on, gremlin.” He popped his head into the kitchen to check on Hunk, who was dancing in place to Billy Ocean as he spread sauce across a few circles of dough. “Your brother says hi, by the way,” Lance added to Pidge, as the doorbell rang and a tipsy couple stumbled in.

 

Pidge wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

 

Lance snorted and grabbed a pad of paper to write the new order down.  
  
***

 

Pidge was nodding off at a table and Keith had delivered two more loads of pizzas, returning once suspiciously red and close-lipped, by the time two A.M. rolled around and the bars emptied. Lance and Hunk navigated the sudden influx of hungry, intoxicated customers with practiced ease. When Keith returned from his latest delivery run, the last crowd of tipsy students were filtering out. He stood back to let them pass, tugging his dumb hat off and shoving it into a pocket.

 

Lance grinned at him on his way to the jukebox. “All right there, Mullet?”

 

 _“What_ did you just call me?”

 

“The truth,” Lance told him, deadpan, feeding a couple quarters into the machine. Pidge cracked up where she was slumped over onto a table.

 

Hunk leaned out from the doorway, resettling his yellow bandana in his hair. “Hey, Keith, I’ve got another three orders in the oven.”

 

Keith settled himself in a lean against the counter after a second, watching Lance carefully press a couple buttons on the jukebox. A familiar synth intro filtered through the speakers, and Lance turned with a grin to meet Keith’s raised eyebrow. “What?”

 

 _“_ ‘Final Countdown?’ Really?”

 

“It’s a classic,” Lance defended. “Plus, it’s tradition.”

 

“Tradition?”

 

Pidge propped herself up on her elbow. “Lance puts it on every night after the bar rush,” she explained through a yawn.

 

Lance ruffled her hair on the way by, avoiding her sleepy swat. “It’s the last stretch, Pidgey! We’re almost home now.”

 

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, until tomorrow night.”

 

“Until my midterm tomorrow afternoon,” Hunk groaned, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

 

Lance darted around the counter and hooked an arm around his shoulders. “You got this, buddy.”

 

Hunk groaned, rubbing his eye with the heel of a hand. “God, I hope so. Why did I ever want to do engineering?”

 

Lance tapped him on the temple. “Because of your big giant brain.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

The bell rang as Shiro came in, closely followed by Matt, who sauntered up to the counter and said, “Hi, yeah, can I order one new baby sister?”

 

Lance hummed in mock consideration, rubbing his chin. “Well, we don’t have any new ones in stock, but I’ve got a used one I could let you have over there.” He pointed at Pidge, who drowsily flipped them off.

 

Matt heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I guess she’ll have to do. Come here, sister dearest, I’m taking you home with me.”

 

Shiro shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m dating you.”

 

“Because you love me,” Matt responded, standing up on his tiptoes to give Shiro a loud, smacking kiss on the lips.

 

Pidge, Lance and Hunk all gagged in unison. “God, it’s like watching your parents kiss,” Lance said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

 

“Just imagine what it’s like for us,” Pidge muttered, nudging Keith with her elbow as she stood. He looked… almost surprised? Lance couldn’t quite place his expression.

 

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug. “Hey, Katie. Have a good night?”

 

She smothered another yawn. “I started writing a program that’ll hack into the university emergency alert system and send out suggestive emojis at random intervals.”

 

Matt ruffled her hair proudly. “That’s my girl.”

 

Shiro shook his head again, sighing, before he looked over at Keith. “You doing all right?”

 

Keith nodded. “Kinda tired.”

 

“You get used to it fast,” Hunk told him, rubbing at the new pesto stain on the wall with a damp rag and a frown.

 

Lance nodded. “We can’t fall asleep before three A.M. anymore.”

 

Keith raised his eyebrows, dark eyes darting between Lance and Hunk. “Great. Guess I’ll adjust.”

 

“You will or you won’t,” Lance said cheerfully, grabbing the mop. “Now shoo, you lot.” He waved his cleaning implement at them with enough gusto Hunk had to duck out of the way of the handle. “I gotta clean.”

 

Matt paled. “Oh, god, let’s get out of here before he breaks out the bleach.”

 

Shiro eyed the mop warily. “Good idea.”

 

“That was _one time,”_ Lance protested. They looked entirely unconvinced.

 

With a chorus of goodbyes and waves, they shepherded a half-asleep Pidge into the night. Lance grabbed the bucket after they left, stepping into the tiny bathroom to fill it with water and a few capfuls of bleach.

 

Keith was still leaning against the counter when he came back into the front with his cleaning water, and Lance jiggled it at him hard enough some slopped out the sides. “Seriously, I gotta mop. Scoot.”

 

“Oh, uh…” Keith looked around.

 

Lance sighed. “Here, just park it in a booth til I’m done.”

 

Keith settled into one of the middle booths, watching as Lance dipped the mop and started pushing it across the cracked tile floor. “Why are you mopping now? Isn’t this place open for another--” he checked his phone-- “hour and a half?”

 

Lance shrugged, scrubbing the floor with broad, methodical strokes. “Sure, but pretty much nobody’s going to come in between now and then. We’ll get a few more delivery calls, finish cleaning, pray no assholes call in orders right before closing…”

 

Keith’s forehead creased. “People seriously do that?”

 

“More than you’d expect,” Lance grumbled, dunking the mop in the bucket again.

 

Keith shook his head. “Assholes,” he echoed. Lance shot him a grin and he _swore_ a corner of Keith’s mouth twitched in response before Hunk called an order up from the kitchen and he stood, carefully avoiding Lance’s freshly mopped swathes of floor to grab the boxes.

 

“Jessie’s Girl” came up on the jukebox and Lance sang along as he mopped, nodding in farewell at Keith as he reappeared from the kitchen with the orders and pushed out the door.

 

***

 

The last hour always dragged. Keith made one more run to deliver a couple pies, then they all watched the old analog clock behind the counter and held their breath that they wouldn’t get any more calls as the minutes ticked by, Lance and Hunk cleaning the whole store top to bottom as Keith sat in a booth.

 

At three-forty-five, Lance and Hunk breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“This is the point where we can tell people we’re too close to closing to complete their order,” Hunk told Keith as he vanished back into the kitchen to finish putting everything away.

 

Keith hummed. “Nice.”

 

Lance snorted as he walked by to give the bathroom a quick clean. “Not really. Coran just got tired of paying us overtime.”

 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the phone rang. Lance shot Keith a pointed look as he dropped his rag on the counter and snagged the receiver. “Pizza Planet.” He listened to the wasted college kid on the other side stumble his way through an order with a Customer Service™ smile firmly in place. “I’m sorry, we actually don’t take orders this close to closing. Thanks for the call, though.” He didn’t even bother to listen to the response before hanging up-- chances were the kid wasn’t going to remember it tomorrow anyways.

 

At four on the dot, Lance hit the switch on the jukebox, Hunk flipped off the lights, and the three of them stepped out into the frigid early morning air.

 

Keith covered a yawn with the back of his hand. He’d almost nodded off a couple times over the last half hour. Hunk clapped him on the shoulder. “You good to drive, man?”

 

Keith nodded, swallowing another yawn. “Yeah, I don’t live far.”

 

“You did a good job for your first night,” Hunk told him, before giving Lance an expectant and very obvious nudge.

 

“You did okay,” Lance told him grudgingly. And really, he had. Lance had only gotten two calls from people complaining about wait times. Compared to Rollo, who would, on occasion, vanish for hours at a time, Keith was a dream.

 

Keith shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and nodded shortly. “Thanks.”

 

They all stood there for another second before Lance pointed at Hunk’s shitty beater van. “Well, this is us.”

 

“Right.” Keith took a couple steps towards an ancient black Toyota Camry. “See you guys tomorrow, I guess.”

 

Hunk gave him a friendly wave as Lance dragged him towards the car, hissing at him to hurry up. He turned the heater up full blast as soon as Hunk out the key in the ignition, biting off an unhappy whine as cold air poured out of the vents.

 

“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Hunk asked, giving his rearview mirrors a completely unnecessary check as he backed out of the parking spot, considering no one else was on the roads at four A.M. save for a handful of desperate Uber drivers.

 

Lance slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, if by nice you mean weird _.”_

 

“Listen,” Hunk began, cruising down the deserted streets, “you know I love you, but that’s kind of a pot and kettle situation, don’t you think?”

 

Lance gaped at him. “How dare you,” he protested. “I’m not weird, I’m _quirky._ It’s _charming._ People like me. Emo Bon Jovi is just plain _weird.”_

 

Lance could hear the eyeroll in Hunk’s voice. “You barely even talked to him, Lance.”

 

“And it was still enough,” he asserted, crossing his arms stubbornly.

 

Hunk sighed and shook his head. “Look, can you just give the guy a chance before you get all…”

 

“All what _?”_

 

Hunk squinted out the windshield. “Lance-y?”

 

Lance considered that for a second. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

 

Heaving another sigh, Hunk said, “Just try. That’s all I ask. Don’t jump to conclusions about him, don’t judge him on how he looks, just give him a chance. Get to know him.”

 

Lance always hated Hunk lectures; they left him with the distinct impression of being in the wrong, even at times like these when he was _definitely not_. So he slouched down even farther and muttered, “Yes, Mom,” glaring out his window at the dark, silent city sliding by.

 

Hunk wanted him to give Keith a chance? Fine by him. Lance knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he and Keith would never be anything even approaching friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I really have anything to say other than, hi, this is Kelly, I hope you enjoy my chapter, and a huge thank you to all who reviewed and kudos'd and stuff. You're all the coolest   
> Plus Camille is just really fabulous  
> Anyway, so begins Keith's POV  
> Enjoy! <3

Groaning, Keith rolled over and rubbed his eyes, feeling just as tired as he had last night when he’d fallen into bed, hands stained with a seemingly perpetual layer of grease. Though he’d yet to try the food, even a week into his new job--the endless string of comments about how bad it was more than convincing--the cardboard he delivered it in wasn't much better.

 

Reaching for his phone on the floor beside his bed, Keith checked the time and tumbled onto his back, closing his eyes. It was two. Again. Better than four, though. After the first day--the confusing, overwhelming, infuriating first day--that was when he’d woken up.

 

And then there was Monday and Tuesday, his days off. Days he’d almost entirely slept through. Keith was positive he hadn’t slept so much in his entire life. Lance had said that he was either going to adjust or he wasn’t and for once, Keith was glad the rest of his life was a flaming pile of shit because it meant he could adjust. This job was all he had. Literally. Until work started, he’d probably lounge on the couch, watch TV he didn’t want to watch, and contemplate what shenanigans he was going to have to endure.

 

Honestly, it wasn’t even like he was on the actual premises of the Planet all that often, but it was often enough to decide that it was really incredible anything got done. Pidge was always there and though Keith actually kind of liked her--why, he couldn’t quite say--she was an almost constant distraction.

 

Not that Lance and Hunk would avoid getting distracted anyway. Well, maybe Hunk could actually manage working, but Lance seemed to have the concentration of a cat, a single-minded and determined kind of concentration, but one that didn’t have span a particularly long life.

 

Stumbling out of bed, Keith wandered out of his room and into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and scanning the contents, desperate to distract himself from thoughts of Lance. That was a rabbit hole. An intensely long and warped one.

 

On one hand, he was attractive, his blue eyes the most…

 

Slamming the fridge closed, having grabbed nothing, Keith fled to the couch and flipped on the TV.   _ Not the goddamn eyes again,  _ Keith thought to himself.  _ All sorts of things are pretty and actually suck, Keith.  Like...snakes. Or... _ god, why could he never come up with examples when he needed them?

 

Either way, Lance definitely sucked. He’d rubbed Keith the wrong way from day one, mostly because he’d decided to be an unmitigated asshole for absolutely no reason whatsoever. For the first three shifts, that had been a source of interest for Keith, something he idly thought about when he was bored, because there  _ had _ to be a reason why, but he was past that now. The strange blustering, the occasional muttered ‘asshole’ that Keith frequently caught, the remarks begging for a retaliation of some kind, the sheer giddiness he would sometimes display at Keith’s pain, none of it had stopped.

 

Sure, Keith didn’t make it easy for people to know him, it wasn’t in his nature to do so, but it usually meant people just ignored him. It was rare that someone reacted as strongly as Lance had been reacting.

 

He just didn’t make any goddamn sense and it was irritating.  _ He _ was irritating.

 

And he’d gone down the rabbit hole.

 

Keith began repeating the words that were being said on the TV inside his own head, hoping that would be enough to pull his thoughts away from Lance--who was unbelievably and infuriatingly endearing whenever he danced around with the mop. Unfortunately, it was the weather, something he could figure out for himself just by looking outside, and he’d opened up the ‘Lance dancing with the mop’ door, so it didn’t even remotely work.

 

_ Asshole _ , Keith reminded himself.

 

Thankfully, Shiro saved him, as usual. Returning from class in a whirlwind of motion and noise, Shiro said, “Hey, look at that. You’re up.”

 

“Don’t know why,” Keith replied, letting his head fall back and gazing at the ceiling. 

 

“Don’t you think it’s a little early in the...I suppose it’s not morning anymore.”

 

“Not too early, then.”

 

“Did you eat?”

 

“No,” Keith mumbled. “I got distracted.”

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure the TV didn’t turn itself on.”

 

When Keith didn’t reply, Shiro sighed and came over, crashing down on the couch beside him, mimicking Keith’s pose, except his eyes weren’t directed at the ceiling, they were directed at Keith. Softly, he said, “You didn’t have to get a job, Keith.”

 

“Had to do something.”

 

“Eating’s a good start.”

 

“I eat.”

 

Laughing exasperatedly, Shiro rose from the couch, not one to be idle, and started puttering around in the kitchen, likely making something for Keith to eat. And he’d make just the right amount, so that it was a little too much for one person and he could pretend he’d only made it for himself, that there was just a little leftover.

 

“Don’t you have another class?” Keith asked, not entirely sure. He hadn’t really bothered to learn his brother’s schedule and he hadn’t been living with him long enough to know it unconsciously.

 

“It was cancelled.”

 

Nodding, Keith watched Shiro work, suspecting that he had lots of reading to do and that this free hour could be better spent. It was a mystery how he did it; going to grad school, working, seeing Matt, and housing Keith, all of it without complaint. He probably didn’t have time for it, not like Keith had time.

 

Feeling sorry for himself was quickly becoming his new favorite pastime. It was pathetic, but he wasn’t sure how to break the cycle.

 

The episode of whatever he was watching ended and Shiro came over with a plate of quesadillas, setting them on the coffee table and grabbing one quarter for himself. Before he took a bite, he said, “Want to talk about it?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You just dropped out of college.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me. I’d almost forgotten.”

 

This was the first proper conversation they’d had since the first day Keith had arrived here. They hadn’t talked a lot when Keith was in school, either, and so he’d forgotten how hard it was to shake Shiro. So it was a surprise when Shiro said, “I don’t care why you did, you know. I don’t even care that you did. If it wasn’t for you, it wasn’t for you. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life, because I trust you to do what’s right for you. Just promise you’ll let me help if you need help, alright? Because I want you to be happy and I know enough to know you’re not right now.”

 

“Thanks,” Keith whispered.

 

“Know why?”

 

“Oh god.”

 

Slipping an arm around Keith’s shoulders, Shiro pulled him into a very one-sided hug and said, “It’s because I love you, little brother.”

 

“Get off of me.”

 

Shiro obliged, chuckling lightly, and offered Keith the plate of quesadillas. “Eat, would you?”

 

Taking a slice, Keith ate a few small bites and then, before he knew it, more than his half of the share. Shiro didn’t seem to mind, having already pulled out his books and reading them with the concentration of a person who didn’t have enough hours in a day.

 

Not wishing to make that harder, Keith shut off the TV, sat for a few minutes, trying to come up with something to do, and then grabbed his phone to search for bookstores nearby. It was an easy way to waste hours before work. Because that was what he did now. Unlike Shiro, he had too many hours.

 

There was a used bookstore not too far away, so he told Shiro he was going out and left. Figuring he would walk--wasting yet more time--Keith left the apartment and struck out down the street, hands dug deep into his pockets. 

 

When he arrived at the bookstore, he wandered in, happy to find it almost completely empty. It was a dark, slightly dreary place, but there were books and lots of them, so Keith spent most of his afternoon there, picking a book halfway through his trip and settling down in a corner to read, not particularly bothered that whoever was working would find him.

 

He left when he was hungry, finding a small cafe that served soups and sandwiches and getting some of each, eating at a table alone, idly wondering how the hell people made friends, so that they weren’t like him, a college drop out--who’d partially done it because he  _ was  _ so fucking lonely--with no prospects, no dreams, no friends, and a shitty job. God, the people he worked with weren’t even that _ bad _ . But Keith was too damn socially awkward to do a thing about it. 

 

The private pity party lasted him all the way through his meal and then he went back to the apartment to shower--it was probably easier to make friends if you started out the night not smelling like last night’s grease.  

 

Once he was out of the shower, Shiro was gone, having left for work.  Only having an hour before he had to do that himself, Keith collapsed on the couch and stayed there until he left for work, staring at the ceiling longer than a normal person likely should.

 

***

 

The second he opened the door the the Planet, he wished he hadn’t.  Fuck making friends, fuck making money, fuck everything.

 

For one, Lance was definitely making fun of him.  Keith probably wouldn’t have found out, but Hunk was staring straight at him, slapping Lance on the arm and saying something, erasing any doubt. For another, whatever song was playing was more horrible than usual. Probably also a gift from Lance. He was the only one who seemed to care what song came from that jukebox.

 

Glancing around and trying to decide what surface he should bang his head against, Keith heard Lance laugh nervously and say, “Keith, heyyy. Sup, buddy?”

 

Already feeling drained, even though there were so many hours to go, Keith approached the counter and said, “Nothing.  _ Buddy _ .”

 

There was an indignant squawk from Lance, as though Keith had just proved some point he’d been making, that was quickly silenced by Hunk. Smiling as best he could, Hunk said, “You okay, man? You’re looking a little rough.”

 

“Fine,” Keith replied.  “Anything for me to deliver?”

 

“Nope. Not quite yet.”

 

“Let me know,” Keith said, sinking into a booth, propping his legs up on the opposite seat, figuring his shoes weren’t going to make them any uglier. Closing his eyes, he reminded himself that he hadn’t actually made a promise to try doing anything besides his job. It just would’ve been nice.

 

Keith could hear low mumblings from the counter and it made him wonder where Pidge was. She was usually here by now. Cracking an eye, Keith considered asking, but he was being paid very little attention. Until, suddenly, he was being paid a whole lot of attention and Lance was heading straight for him.

 

Not bothering to move his legs, Keith crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Come to make fun of me again? Sorry, seat’s taken.”

 

Immediately, Lance’s face shuttered closed, pinching into a scowl. The change in expression was more profound and abrupt than Keith had expected, not realizing until now that before he’d decided to be an asshole, Lance had probably been about to say something nice. Or, at least, conciliatory. “Actually, I’m here to save my beautiful clean seats from your gross-ass feet.”

 

“Clean? Seriously?”

 

Lance waved a hand in the air. “Relatively. Whatever.”

 

Sighing, Keith said, “Did you want something?” Since that felt like a step in the right direction, one he’d taken and Lance hadn’t, Keith left his feet where they were.

 

The dirty look Lance was sending his shoes faltered. “I…” He sighed and ran a hand through his short brown hair. “Just...can I sit?” he asked abruptly.

 

Slowly, Keith slid his feet from the seat and adjusted his position to compensate. Lance slipped into the empty spot and leaned his elbows on the table, avoiding Keith’s gaze by fiddling with a loose string on his apron.

 

After a beat of silence, he blurted, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t cool of me.” He peeked up at Keith, judging the reception of his words.  

 

While that was the reasonable conclusion to the entire situation, Keith was still surprised. Lance and reasonable did not go together in his head. Keith let out a low breath. “Yeah. Not really. At least have the balls to do it to my face.”

 

Lance jerked his head back in surprise. “Geez, man, ever learn how to take an apology?”

 

“I…” Keith stopped and cursed himself.  _ You have no friends _ , he reminded himself.  _ Maybe this guy can’t be your friend, but you can at least make some goddamn effort _ .  An unhelpful but not entirely unexpected image of Lance dancing crossed his mind. “I’m not...never mind. Apology accepted, I guess.” 

 

That could’ve come out worse. Progress.

 

Lance’s scowl only softened a fraction. “Wow, you sound really--”

 

“Keith,” Hunk interrupted from the counter, “deliveries are ready to go.”

 

Locking eyes with Lance, Keith felt the weight of the words they were leaving unsaid, but stood anyway. After all, he needed this job more than he needed friends. 

 

Heading into the kitchen, he saw Hunk already hard at work on another pizza. Easily letting himself be interrupted, he gave Keith a list of addresses. Thanking him, Keith grabbed the done pizzas and left the Planet, not anxious to be back. If he knew how to get anywhere yet, he’d take the long way to everywhere. But he didn’t and he’d probably get tragically lost at least once, so it didn’t matter. He’d be gone long enough. Long enough, hopefully, to develop a coping mechanism for Lance, because tonight, he wasn’t in the mood.

 

***

 

When he returned, order was briefly restored, to his relief.  Only an hour into his shift and he was ready to call God and suggest he blow up the entire world, save humanity from themselves. 

 

Lance was on the phone, Hunk was in the kitchen, and Pidge was on top of the counter, legs hanging off the side. Some dumb song was playing and Keith internally sighed, despondent.  He was about to be very familiar with all of these songs.

 

Leaning against the counter beside Pidge, crossing his arms over his chest, Keith said, “Where’ve you been?”

 

Without looking up from her phone, she said, “With Matt and Shiro. But then they kicked me out because I’m young and impressionable or something.”

 

The sound of Lance hanging up the phone interrupted their conversation and Keith felt something in him withdraw, preparing for the inevitability of Lance worming his way in, drawing Pidge’s attention away.

 

Sure enough, Lance bounded over, ruffled Pidge’s hair, and said, “That’s my Pidgeotto.”

 

Without a beat, she flipped him off.

 

Slowly, Keith was sidling away, exiting the conversation, when Pidge lifted her eyes from her phone and said, “Anything good yet?”

 

Keith shook his head. The one routine he’d managed to develop in his first week was telling Pidge all about the more horrifying customers. She would always laugh, probably more at his pain than anything else, but it was comforting, nonetheless, something that made him feel like he had a place here. 

 

“Plenty of time,” she replied. Then she smirked and glanced at Lance, who brightened considerably and suspiciously ran off into the kitchen.  More suspiciously, Pidge had leapt down from the counter and taken him by the shoulders, marching him towards one of the booths.

 

When she released his shoulders, he turned to see Lance grinning from ear to ear, carrying a plate with both hands, as though it was a ceremonial object. Hunk was trailing behind him apprehensively, looking sympathetic.

 

Pretty sure he knew where this was going, Keith said, “Nope.”

 

“It’s tradition,” Pidge said, nudging him closer to the booth. “Best to just accept your fate.”

 

Meeting Hunk’s gaze, Keith said, “Is it?”

 

Tapping the tips of his index fingers together, Hunk replied, “I mean, not technically, but…”  His words were cut off by a glare from Lance and he sighed. “It’s tradition now, I guess. We’ve all eaten the food, to be fair.”

 

As Keith sat, he made sure to scowl at Lance, sure he was the instigator. He was taking a vindictive sort of pleasure out of it, that was for sure. Placing the plate in front of Keith was an entire process, slow and precise, with a vocal rendition of the Olympics theme song by--who else--Lance.  There wasn’t much on it, only a slice of pepperoni pizza and a garlic knot, but considering Keith didn’t want to eat a single bite, it was more than enough. He was hoping they didn’t intend for him to eat all of it.

 

“Five bucks he throws the food into your face, Lance,” Pidge said.

 

“Hey! Don’t go giving him ideas.”

 

“Five he kills all of us,” Hunk mumbled.

 

“Five he throws up,” Lance countered. “I think I did.”

 

“Nope, that was me,” Hunk replied.

 

“Oh yeah.  Well, I felt for you, buddy.”

 

The bickering continued, but Keith tuned it out, instead staring at the food in front of him. It didn’t look awful, not really. Sure, it was greasy. And a little too shiny, as though it was made of plastic. But it had to be edible. This place was still standing, after all. Determined to do none of the above, though keeping Pidge’s suggestion in mind just in case, Keith picked up the slice of pepperoni and took a determined bite.

 

It was  _ vile _ . It was a combination of all the worst pizzas Keith had had in his life times ten. In fact, Keith was confident he could make a better pizza from scratch, without a recipe, and he had no fucking idea how to do something like that. Swallowing, mostly because Lance was staring at him expectantly, Keith flung the pizza back onto the plate and said, “I’m not touching the rest of that.”

 

“Gotta try the garlic knot,” Lance said.

 

“Like hell.”

 

“I bet I can  _ make _ you.  Quick, Pidge, help me pin him down.”

 

“I’m not taking part in this,” Hunk said, fleeing to the kitchen.

 

Before they could do any such thing, though Keith wasn’t particularly worried, he picked up the garlic knot and threw it at Lance’s face. It bounced off his forehead and Pidge burst into laughter, quickly followed by Keith, pleased he hadn’t missed, while Lance spluttered indignantly.

 

“C’mon, man!” Lance rubbed at the oily spot on his forehead as he whined. “This shit is gonna make me break out.”

 

“Tragic,” Keith dead-panned before laughing again. Pidge hadn’t stopped, after all, and her laugh was infectious, unrestrained and loud.

 

“It is tragic! All  _ this _ takes work, Mullet.”

 

“All what?”

 

Scowling, Lance was about to say something when the phone rang. “Duty calls,” he said, hurrying away. He reached his post in the space between rings and managed to point at Keith and say, “I don’t like you,” before he answered.

 

Though there was little behind it, Keith didn’t see any other explanation for why Lance treated him the way he did. Sometimes, people just brushed you the wrong way. And maybe Keith brushed Lance the wrong way. “Clearly,” he mumbled to himself.

 

Unfortunately, Pidge had caught it. Plopping down into the booth, she said, “Lance can be an idiot, sometimes.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pidge resumed messing with her phone, but she didn’t leave. Maybe Keith was reading too much into it, but her place seemed to be the counter, and the fact that she was forgoing that to sit with him, made him feel better. Better than driving had; better than taking the corners fast, better than rolling down all the windows, better than the blur of streetlights and people.

 

Flicking her eyes up, Pidge said, “Stop looking at me weird.”

 

“I’m not looking at you weird.”

 

She shrugged and then smirked. “Nice throw, by the way.”

 

Letting the corners of his lips quirk up, Keith said, “Thanks.”

 

After that, they didn’t talk, and then Keith had more deliveries. As he drove, pizzas resting in the passenger seat, he felt a small measure of relief. From the very beginning, it had been obvious Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were a package deal, leaving Keith on the outskirts, able to witness, but not interact. Now, however, it felt like he had an in, a way to cement his place, and  _ maybe _ , maybe that would be enough to change Lance’s mind. Not that Keith cared. It would just be simpler if they could get along.

 

***

 

Three delivery runs later, more than one scarring experience under his belt, Keith returned to the Planet, dreaming of one of the booths, a place he could kick up his feet, maybe close his eyes for a few minutes, only to find a number of them taken. Uninterested in interacting with a single drunk person, Keith abandoned that idea and retreated behind the counter, taking a chance, and elbowing Pidge in the knee. Glancing up from her DS--Keith briefly wondered where she actually kept all of those devices--her eyes brightened. Less than a minute later, she set down her DS, pushed her glasses up her nose, and said, “You’ve got something, don’t you?”

 

“Three somethings.”

 

When Keith didn’t immediately jump into a story, Pidge kicked him in the hip. 

 

“That kind of hurt,” Keith grumbled, rubbing the spot she’d kicked and glaring at her. Unsurprisingly, she laughed and kicked him again, making sure to tell him to stop wasting her time.

 

Before he could start, however, Lance came out of the kitchen, probably interested in whatever had caused Keith to complain about being in pain. He pressed a hand to his chest with an exaggerated gasp. “What’s this, Pidgeon? Are you actually picking on someone your own size, for once?” He leaned over and ruffled her hair to enunciate the meaning of his words, shooting Keith a wicked grin as he did.

 

“Go away, Lance. Keith was about to talk and something tells me he won’t if you’re standing there.”

 

“What do you know?”

 

“Well, since he actually  _ talks _ to me, sometimes--you know, in sentences, not just a couple one syllable words--I’d guess more than you.”

 

Lance’s jaw dropped.  _ “Rude,”  _ he managed after a second.

 

Grateful that Pidge was willing to stand up to him, but unwilling to cause any sort of rift, even a brief and largely unimportant one, Keith simply started in on his stories, trying not to concern himself with Lance’s presence. Hopefully he’d have the foresight not to interrupt. Keith was already more than happy to keep quiet. He didn’t need incentive.

 

“So,” he began, “one address was for a motel and I got there, knocked on the door, and a man answered, pulling the door wide open. He was alone. And wearing heels, a bright pink thong, with a purse hanging from his arm.”

 

“Was he going somewhere?” Pidge asked.

 

Keith shrugged. “Don’t think so. Considering he invited me into the room. To share the pizza with him.”

 

As expected, Pidge started to laugh. Beside her, Lance looked amused, but unfazed, as though the exact situation had happened to him before. “What did you say to him? Exact words.”

 

Racking his brain, Keith replied, “I’m pretty sure I just told him I wasn’t interested in having sex with him and left.”

 

That only made Pidge laugh harder.

 

“Think of the tip you could’ve gotten,” Lance said.

 

“Probably more than you ever got in a night of deliveries,” Keith replied flatly, remembering what Coran had said to him when he’d been hired, that Lance was covering in the absence of a delivery boy.

 

“Baby,” Lance said with a sly grin, “you wouldn’t believe the tips I’ve had.”

 

“That’s...I’m uncomfortable,” Keith mumbled as Pidge groaned.

 

Kicking Lance this time, Pidge said, “Get thee gone. Come back when you can say something that doesn’t make the new guy uncomfortable.” Judging by the smiles on both of their faces, they were actually making fun of Keith. Sighing, Keith pushed himself away from the counter and headed towards one of the booths, just as desperate for a small nap as he’d been earlier. Screw the customers. They couldn’t be any worse than his co-workers.

 

“Lance,” Pidge shrieked. “Come back. He’s getting away and he’s got two stories left!”

 

“On it,” Lance shouted, running over and taking Keith’s hand in his.

 

The move surprised Keith. He’d been so sure that nobody was going to drag him away from his booth and his nap, but now there was a hand in his, and he was being herded back towards the counter with determination. The second he was back in range of Pidge’s foot, Lance dropped his hand and said, “Your hands are so sweaty, dude.”

 

“Not as sweaty as yours.” To be honest, Keith didn’t even know if Lance’s hand had been sweaty. He’d been too distracted. Because Lance had been holding his hand and Keith couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that. For anything. Was it weird to think it was nice? Probably. Especially when the someone holding your hand presumably hated your guts.

 

“My hand is  _ not  _ sweaty. That was all you.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Shrugging dismissively, Keith told Pidge the remainder of his stories, one featuring a fight between a couple over the type of condoms the man had gotten at the convenience store, and the other featuring a girl and a guy lying on the floor just behind the door, giggling at each other, the woman paying for the pizza obviously plastered. He  _ had _ gotten a huge tip at that house.

 

Appeased, Pidge released him and Keith went to a booth nearest to the counter and laid down. Briefly, he considered setting an alarm, but it was unlikely he would sleep through Lance shouting about some injustice and the clattering from the kitchen. It would be fine. He’d be up in time for the next set of deliveries. Closing his eyes, he immediately fell asleep, the sounds of Lance and Hunk bickering at each other, joy in their voices, leading him there.

 

***

 

A weight was on his shoulder, shaking lightly. Blinking slowly, Keith woke to see Lance’s face hanging above his, half irritated and half amused. “Hey, Mullet, employees falling asleep on the job isn’t really encouraged.”

 

Bolting up, practically banging their heads together, Keith said, “Did I miss any deliveries?”

 

“Nah. I took them. Hunk thought you looked comfortable. Besides,” Lance said, looking vaguely uncomfortable, which was how Keith knew he was going to say something sympathetic, “we’ve all done it before. And you’re still pretty new, so…”

 

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

 

Lance nodded. “Now, get out of the booth. I gotta wipe it down.”

 

Nodding, Keith slid out and rubbed his eyes, stumbling over to the kitchen, where he found Hunk cleaning. Clearly, they were about to close for the night. He’d slept a lot longer than he’d meant to. How he’d managed it, he didn’t know. It seemed like all he did these days was sleep. “Hey, man,” he said to Hunk. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

 

Looking up from the counters he was wiping down, Hunk smiled. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there. And it could’ve been a lot worse. I fell asleep once after one of my finals last year. Course, everyone was out, because it was finals, so we were kind of swamped, and Lance was trying to do everything all by himself and…” Hunk shuddered. “Took forever for us to catch up. We had to call Allura that night.”

 

“Allura?”

 

“Coran’s niece. She helps out sometimes. It’s been awhile since we’ve been that busy, though. Wait for finals week. I’m sure we’ll call her at least once.”

 

“And she just comes?”

 

Hunk nodded. “She’s cool.”

 

Outside the kitchen, “The Final Countdown” started to play. By now, Keith was used to the ritual and also on the verge of taking a bat to the jukebox just so he never had to hear the damn song again. Twice already, he’d tried to convince Lance to let the ritual slide for one night and each time, Lance had acted like Keith was asking him to murder the pope or something. Catching Keith’s expression, Hunk smiled sympathetically. “Lance’s kind of stubborn.”

 

“Kind of?”

 

“He’s worth it, though. He’s one of the best people I know.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“He’ll come around.”

 

Laughing shortly, Keith rubbed his eyes again, trying to get rid of the perpetual scratchiness, and said, “Yeah. I’m sure he will.”

 

“He will,” Hunk said firmly. “I know he’s been acting like an asshole to you, but he’s actually a good person.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“He is human, Keith.”

 

“You sound like Shiro.”

 

Nodding sagely, Hunk said, “I give the lectures around here. Somebody’s gotta be the mom, especially with Lance and Pidge around. Add you to the equation and it’s good I’ve had lots of practice.”

 

Having no clue what to say to that, Keith nodded, tried to come up with words for a minute or two, and then slowly headed towards the delivery rack, piling the pies waiting there into his arms. Then, peering around the sides of the boxes to see where he was walking, Keith headed towards the front of the Planet.

 

“Hey, Keith?” Hunk called after him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Pidge and I like you. Lance will too. Just give it some time.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Putting his hands on his hips, Hunk said, “Now is that any way to talk to your mom?”

 

Smiling, Keith said, “Whatever,  _ Mom. _ ”

 

“Better.”

 

Laughing, Keith felt much lighter than he had when he’d walked in for work. Pidge and Hunk liked him and that meant a lot. It made him feel like this was a place he could belong, a place he could carve himself some space, a place that could be more than just somewhere he was or somewhere he had to be.

 

***

 

After the final deliveries of the night were completed and there were only a couple of minutes left until they closed, Keith headed into the dining area, where Lance was mopping the floors and dancing and singing along to something with a high-pitched but not entirely unpleasant chorus. Riding on the feeling of belonging that had no quite dissipated yet, Keith held out his hand, palm up, and said, “Give me a quarter?”

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, Lance said, “What for?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I’m listening to ‘Africa.’”

 

“And you’ll get to.”

 

“I’m in charge of the jukebox,” Lance said.  “I don’t need whatever crappy music taste you have messing up my groove.”

 

“Your  _ groove _ ?”

 

“Yeah, my groove. Got a problem with that?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Keith forced himself not to fire back.  This was not why he was here.  Keeping his hand outstretched, he said, “Just this once. Promise.”

 

“... Fine,” Lance said, digging in his pocket and producing a quarter. Slamming it down into Keith’s open palm, he went back to mopping while Keith walked over to the jukebox.  As the final notes of “Africa” played, Keith searched through the songs, Hunk came out from the kitchen, finished for the night, and Lance was tossing the mop back into the yellow bucket and towing it to the back.

 

Keith did not know many of the songs, not by name, anyway.  Out of the few he did recognize, there was one he actually liked alright. He was confident Lance was going to make fun of him for his choice, but he didn’t even care. Slipping the quarter into the machine, he pressed the corresponding number and the racing beat started.

 

Returning from the kitchen, Lance said, “Figures.”

 

“Come on, man, it’s a classic,” Hunk said, bobbing his head to the beat. Meeting Keith’s eyes, both he and Hunk started singing along at the same time, Hunk because he seemed to enjoy to, and Keith because it clearly irritated Lance.

 

“Rising up, back on the street. Took my time, took my chances. Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survive.” As they continued, they got louder and more rambunctious and Keith felt his heart speed up, the blood pumping through his veins, and he grinned. His smile must’ve pushed through the last of Lance’s resistance, because he rolled his eyes and joined in.

 

They all stayed until the song was over and as they left the Planet, Lance locking up after them, Keith felt alive. Why it was such a big deal to him that he had gotten to play something on the jukebox, he didn’t know, but it was.

 

By now, Keith recognized Hunk’s van, and it was much closer to the front door than his own car. He said his goodbyes and started to walk away, when the low voices of Hunk and Lance arguing made him slow down. He was glad he did, because Hunk called him back.

 

“Wanna come with us to a haunted corn maze next week?” he asked, smile welcoming.

 

Keith paused, unsure what to say. It sounded kind of fun, but often, these were the kinds of plans he regretted making once they rolled around.

 

What decided it for him was the slightly disgruntled expression on Lance’s face.  “Sure,” he shrugged. “Sounds fun.” Then he headed for his car, smiling down at his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back
> 
> thanks again for all the kudos and comments, y'all! kelly never responds to her comments until she posts but we do read them all and we love each and every one of you <3
> 
> couple notes on this chapter:  
> 1) it has been brought to my attention that it's spelled "rolo," not "rollo." i think this is idiotic, as i vowed at the tender age of six to never name a character after any kind of candy, and i am willfully ignoring it.  
> 2) you may have noticed we... don't really have any sort of posting schedule. kelly started a new job and school just started back up for me, so we write whenever we have time. i promise, we wanna write this as much as you guys want to read it.
> 
> as always, thanks for reading! if you wanna watch us cry about space kids, we're on tumblr ([me](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/)/[kelly](https://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/)). and happy early halloween!

“I  _ still  _ can’t believe you invited him,” Lance grumbled, dropping onto their shitty but much-loved couch.

 

Hunk paused in the doorway of his bedroom to shoot Lance a stern look. “Of course I invited him, Lance, he’s a nice guy. Plus--” he called as he vanished into the room-- “Shiro probably would have asked him anyways.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Well, sure, I expected this betrayal from  _ Shiro.  _ But from you? Never.”

 

“What’s the big deal?” Hunk asked, tugging a clean shirt down over his head as he walked back into the living room. “It actually looked like you guys were getting along tonight. Also, go change before you make the couch smell like pizza.  _ Again. _ ”

 

Lance flapped a hand at him. “In a minute. And we’re not ‘getting along,’” he said, accentuating the words with air quotes, “we’ve simply reached a state of mutual understanding. An acquaintance homeostasis, if you will.”

 

Hunk rolled his eyes, settling onto the couch next to him. “I won’t, actually. There’s literally no reason for you to hold this much of a grudge, dude.”

 

Sitting bolt upright on the couch, Lance started counting off on his fingers. “His attitude, his  _ hair,  _ his dumb fingerless gloves, his music taste--”

 

“You  _ love  _ ‘Eye of the Tiger.’”

 

“When  _ I  _ put it on!”

 

“See, this is why I’m saying your whole weird vendetta thing is ridiculous.”

 

Lance squawked in outrage. “Because I have the good sense to play Survivor only in the most tasteful of situations?”

 

“No,” Hunk started with exaggerated patience, “because you’re insulting this guy based on his  _ hair,  _ which is maybe your newest low in terms of being judgemental. Besides, you can’t actually hate him that much. You let him put the song on.”

 

“Only because he was being so pushy,” Lance insisted, sinking back against the threadbare couch cushions. “It was a one-time thing. Never again.”

 

“Why is it so hard for you to admit that Keith is a cool guy?”

 

“Because he’s  _ not,”  _ Lance mumbled, crossing his arms and scowling at the Star Wars poster on the wall. Harrison Ford stared back, as impassive as ever.

 

Hunk sighed. “Whatever, man. I’m going to bed.” He leaned over to poke Lance in the ribs. “C’mon, get up before you make the couch smell like the Planet.”

 

With a sigh of his own, Lance reluctantly stood and followed Hunk down the hall, stepping into his own bedroom as he absently returned Hunk’s goodnight. Closing the door behind him, he started stripping off his work clothes.

 

The truth was, Keith was…  _ different  _ than Lance had expected. On first glance, Keith looked like just another broke-ass college kid who needed cash for beer, weed and better pizza, uninterested in really working hard or being part of the Planet team. In short, Lance had expected another Rollo. But Keith actually seemed  _ invested  _ in the job, working hard and without complaint. Pidge liked him, he knew, and she was usually pretty hard to win over. Strangest of all, Keith wasn’t even a college student-- Lance had gathered that from overhearing a terse reply to Pidge when she asked about his major. He tried to ply her for details later, but she shrugged him off, saying, “Ask him yourself if you’re so interested.” 

 

And god dammit, Lance _was_ interested, in spite of his most stubborn attempts to hold onto that first impression. Keith was weird, sure, but it wasn’t, like, a _bad_ weird. It was more like a Pidge weird-- odd but endearing in its own way. Or like… a cat. God, why would he never come up with a decent metaphor?

 

The point being-- Keith was...  _ fine,  _ at least enough that Lance had actually felt a pang of sympathy when he saw him tonight passed out in one of the booths. Lord knows he’d been there a good few times, himself, especially during the first few weeks he and Hunk worked at the Planet. He was polite to Coran, and a hard worker, and he made Pidge laugh, all of which were necessities on Lance’s checklist for someone to achieve the status of “Good Human Being.” 

 

Still, he was reserving his judgement. First impressions were  _ important,  _ and Keith had fired in with an attitude Lance wasn’t quick to forget. Plus, his life outside the Planet remained a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in fingerless gloves. Lance wasn’t going to just-- just becomes  _ buddies  _ with the guy just because he could drive a car and drop off pizzas without getting horribly lost.

 

No matter how adorable he was when he wrinkled his nose in his sleep.

 

Wait, no. Lance shook his head to dislodge  _ that  _ particular train of thought.  _ Keith is  _ not _ cute,  _ he scolded himself.  _ Keith is  _ not _ our friend.  _ It had become an unfortunately common mantra over the last week. He was getting pretty good at training himself out of it, but he slipped up sometimes when he was distracted or tired.

 

And  _ man  _ was he tired. It was kind of stressful to switch between working the front and deliveries, and there had been a lot of orders in the runs he’d taken while Keith was asleep, but… He thought of Keith’s surprised, grateful expression as he walked down the short hall to the bathroom for his nightly skincare routine. Yeah, it had been worth it. 

 

***

 

“Hold still,” Matt instructed, and Lance stifled a laugh as Pidge immediately started squirming again under his hands.

 

“It  _ tickles,  _ Matt, hurry up.”

 

“I’m trying! Stop wrinkling your nose.”

 

Hunk rejoined them in line, a strip of red tickets in his hand. Squinting at Pidge’s half-painted face, he asked, “Are you supposed to be, like, a nutcracker or something?”

 

Pidge howled with laughter as Matt drooped. “She’s  _ supposed  _ to be a creepy doll.”

 

Lance clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “No one can fault you for trying, man.” Matt’s Halloween makeup skills were infamous. Lance was glad he had stuck with a relatively simple Lady Gaga lightning bolt across his eye. 

 

“I like nutcracker,” Pidge said, baring a fierce grin at them. The red cheeks and extra teeth did not make it any more intimidating than usual. 

 

“No one appreciates my art,” Matt announced with a dramatic sigh. With his own vampire makeup, he looked like a particularly morose extra from some shitty production of  _ Dracula.  _   
  
“Well, luckily for you,” Hunk said, pointing over the heads of the crowd around them before raising his arm, “here comes the only person who actually  _ does.”  _

 

Lance looked around to see Shiro returning Hunk’s wave as he weaved towards them through the throngs of people. Keith trailed him, wearing his dumb red leather motorcycle jacket. At least it looked like he had a thick black hoodie on underneath-- it was cold as  _ fuck.  _ He was also glaring suspiciously at the excited crowd, and Lance huffed a laugh as he watched him jerk back to avoid a collision with a fast-moving witch, a disgruntled look on his face.

 

Things had been…  _ okay  _ between them this last week. To be honest, Lance had a paper due and a big exam, so he’d been pretty distracted. The night before his test, he’d actually brought his textbook so Pidge could quiz him whenever he wasn’t talking to someone on the phone or she wasn’t working on her own homework. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d only had a few brief exchanges with Keith over the last few days, mostly about work. To be fair, though, Keith had been busy too. They always had significantly more deliveries called in during test weeks.

 

But still… this was the  _ haunted corn maze.  _ This was  _ their  _ thing,  _ their  _ Halloween, since they always worked the night of, and Lance wasn’t thrilled to have the lead singer of a Journey tribute band tagging along with them. So when Shiro and Keith finally pushed through the last group of people and stepped into their little circle, Lance shoved his hands in his pockets and let just the beginnings of a scowl touch his face.

 

He must have been a little too obvious, though, because Pidge very deliberately stepped on his toes as she bounded forward to say hello.

 

Shiro carefully cupped Matt’s face, turning it towards the light. “Babe, you look great.”

 

Matt covered Shiro’s hands with his own. “I am so glad I can always count on you to have my back.” He stood up on his tiptoes to give him a kiss.

 

In practiced unison, Lance, Pidge and Hunk all gagged. 

 

“Nice to know I’m not the only one who suffers this,” Keith muttered, quiet enough it was almost lost under the buzz of the crowd. 

 

Lance snorted. “Welcome to the club, dude.”

 

A corner of Keith’s mouth twitched before it dropped into a frown. “What’s with the…” He gestured to his own cheek, tracing his eyes over Lance’s face.

 

“What, this? Lady Gaga.” Keith looked blank. “You know,  _ ra ra ah-ah-ahh?”  _ Lance did the dance as he said it, but Keith didn’t look any more enlightened. “Dude, have you been  _ alive  _ this century, or did you just crawl out of your coffin two weeks ago?”

 

Crossing his arms with a scowl, Keith snapped, “I’m not a vampire.”

 

Lance held his hands up. “Kidding! Geez, man, lighten up.” He bit off the joke about vampires and the sun that wanted to follow.

 

A tense silence settled between them, so Lance glanced around to see what everyone else was up to. Hunk had put Pidge on his shoulders so she could peer out towards the front of the line, a look of concentration on her painted face. Meanwhile, below decks, Shiro had bent over so Matt could reach his face with his make-up crayons. It looked like Shiro was also turning into a vampire, albeit not a very threatening one with the smile he was giving Matt.

 

“So,” Keith started at his side, and Lance looked back over at him. “How does this work?” He gestured vaguely around them as he spoke.

 

“Never been to a haunted corn maze before?” At Keith’s head shake, Lance hummed consideringly. “Well, we’ll be walking through a maze. Made of corn. And it’ll be haunted.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Wow, super helpful. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, young grasshopper.”

 

Keith opened his mouth to reply, probably with an insult, but he was interrupted by the sound of a chainsaw revving somewhere in the distance, out in the fields of corn behind the fence. 

 

Lance grinned at him.  _ “That,  _ John Stamos,” he said, putting out an arm to guide Keith after the group as they shuffled forward in line, “is what you have to look forward to.”

 

“There are people with  _ chainsaws  _ in there?”

 

“Well, the chain is removed, so they can’t hurt you, but…” Lance shrugged, tucking his hand back in the pocket of his jacket. “Yeah.”

 

Keith shook his head. “I can’t believe this place hasn’t been flagged as a-- a safety hazard, or something.”

 

That got a laugh out of Lance. “Oh, man, the employees are in way worse danger than we are. A couple years ago, some guy dressed in like, I’m not kidding here, a  _ corn suit  _ jumped out at Hunk and he punched him.” Lance threw his head back on another laugh at the memory. “It was incredible.”

 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Hunk protested. Pidge had slipped back to the ground at some point. “He was coming at me.”

 

Lance slung an arm around his shoulder. “I know, buddy, I know. You just can’t help your lightning-fast kung fu reflexes.”

 

Hunk sighed as Pidge joined Lance on another cackle. “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

 

“Nope,” everyone except Keith chorused. 

 

Hunk shrugged good-naturedly. “At least Pidge didn’t get it on video.”

 

“We can always recreate it,” she offered, grinning wickedly.

 

“Nope, I’m good! Oh, hey, is the line moving?” He slipped out from Lance’s arm to usher Pidge forward a few steps after Shiro and Matt. Lance followed with a snicker.

 

“Did Hunk seriously punch someone?” Keith asked, and Lance turned to find him standing at his side again.

 

“Yep.” He popped the p. “Not too hard, thankfully, but he did nail him pretty bad. His mask went flying off. It was hilarious.” He grinned fondly at the memory.

 

Keith huffed a laugh. “Kind of sorry I missed that.”

 

The chainsaw revved again, closer this time, and a few screams drifted to them through the corn. Lance turned his grin on Keith, raising his eyebrows. “You’re not going to get too scared now, are you, Lestat?” 

 

Keith shot him a dark look.

 

_ “Interview with a Vampire.” _

 

“Yeah, I know who Lestat is.”

 

Lance held his hands up. “Okay, geez.”

 

After a beat, Keith said, “I’m not gonna get scared.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Keith scoffed wordlessly.

 

Lance held out a hand, grinning. “You can always hold my hand if you need to, dude. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

 

Keith shot him a pointed look. “In a fight between you and a chainsaw, I’m betting on the saw.”

 

“Okay, one,  _ rude,  _ and two, I already told you the chainsaws aren’t dangerous.”

 

“And yet,” Keith said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I would still bet on it.”

 

Lance gaped at him for a second.  _ “Asshole.” _

 

Keith’s face went blank again as he ducked his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. Lance blinked down at him for a second before shrugging and standing up on his tiptoes, peeking over the heads of the crowd. 

 

“Hey, I think we’re finally getting close to the front.”

 

“Shiro has my ticket,” Keith remembered with a frown.

 

Lance shrugged. “That’s cool. They’ll let our whole group in together. The reason you have to wait so long is because they stagger everyone out,” he explained, nodding at the line around them. “Makes it more fun.”

 

Keith just nodded, wordless.

 

Lance considered him for another second before snapping his fingers. “Hey, you still need to get your face done!”

 

“Uh,” Keith said, giving him a look of flat horror, “no thanks.”

 

Lance ignored him to lean forward and nudge Pidge, who twisted around to look at him. “My sweet little Pidgeon, will you be a dear and get those face crayons from your brother?”

 

A grin spread across her face. “You gonna do Keith?”

 

Snorting, Lance said, “Unfortunate choice of words, Pidgelet, but yes.”

 

She shot him a cheeky salute. “On it.” Very carefully, she crept forward a few steps and leaned around Hunk, reaching towards Matt.

 

“I’m so glad we have a rogue in our party,” Lance remarked to Keith as he watched her gingerly slide the packet of makeup out of Matt’s jacket pocket. He didn’t notice, preoccupied with explaining something to Shiro that apparently needed to be told mostly through gestures.

 

This time, the look Keith gave him was clearly bewildered. “What?”

 

Lance just sighed as Pidge stepped back towards them and pressed her loot into Lance’s hands, practically beaming. “All yours, Michelangelo.”

 

“Let’s be real, Pidge,” Lance said, taking the face crayons from her with a wink, “we all know I’d be Donatello.”

 

She shook her head. “I cannot  _ believe  _ you just pulled a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reference on me.”

 

“To be fair, you got it.”

 

Hunk glanced at them over his shoulder. “That is fair.”

 

Lance pointed at him, cocking his head at Pidge. “See?”

 

Rolling her eyes, she pushed him towards Keith a step. “Just get on with it, Lance.”

 

“Okay, okay, you little goblin. Geez,” Lance muttered, stepping up in front of Keith and popping open the little plastic pack of crayons.

 

Keith eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t like this.”

 

“C’mon, Spike, I’m not gonna bite.” Lance spread his hands innocently. “Promise.”

 

With another doubtful glare, Keith turned to look at Pidge and Hunk. “Stop him if he tries anything too embarrassing?”

 

They nodded, grinning, and Keith reluctantly turned back to Lance. “Okay,” he finally sighed, tilting his face up towards Lance and squeezing his eyes shut. “Do it.”

 

Biting back a smile, Lance selected the black crayon from the box and set his palm against Keith’s jaw to keep his head still. “Don’t flinch.”

 

He brought the crayon down on Keith’s cheek. He immediately flinched.

 

“I said stay  _ still,  _ geez. This’ll take, like, three seconds.”

 

“That long?” Keith grumbled. Lance rolled his eyes, tracing another line across Keith’s face.

 

It really  _ did  _ only take him a few seconds before Lance was stepping back to admire his handiwork, grinning again. Pidge laughed as she saw Keith’s face.

 

“What?” Keith demanded, blinking his eyes open. “What’d he do?”

 

“It’s nothing bad,” Hunk reassured him, although he was smiling too.

 

“Nothing _ bad?”  _ Lance stuck his nose in the air. “It’s  _ art,  _ Hunk, please.”

 

With another sharp look, Keith dug his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with it for a second before he opened the front-facing camera and held it up. He groaned as he caught sight of the set of cat whiskers and the adorable black nose Lance had given him.

 

Lance nodded sagely as Pidge cackled in the background. “Perfect, right?”

 

Keith glared at him another second before sighing. “Well, it could be worse, I guess.”

 

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” Lance demanded.

 

Pidge finally regained herself enough to lean forward and flick him on the ear. “It means you’re a jerk.”

 

_ “Ow,”  _ Lance said, scowling at her. “Both physically  _ and  _ emotionally.”

 

“But you’re  _ our  _ jerk,” she amended, rolling her eyes fondly.

 

Quick as a snake, Lance darted forward to drag her into a one-armed hug. “Aww, Pidgey’s finally showing some real human emotion,” he cooed, rubbing his bare cheek against the top of her head.

 

“Get off me, you octopus.”

 

Shiro and Matt looked around at the commotion. “Hey, nice cat whiskers,” Shiro told Keith.

 

He just groaned again.

 

***

 

It took a few more minutes, but they finally reached the front of the line and handed their tickets over. An employee dressed in a long black robe ushered them through the gate, and Lance bounced on his heels as they walked down the short path towards the mouth of the cornfield. 

 

Hunk whimpered as they stepped up to the rows of corn. The sound of the crowd waiting to enter had already faded, lost in the rustling leaves and the distant roar of a chainsaw. 

 

“It’s okay, Hunk,” Pidge said, patting his arm. “We’ve got you.”

 

Hunk straightened and took a deep breath, releasing it on a long sigh. “I believe you.”

 

Lance turned to look at the group. “Who’s going first?”

 

“Not me,” everyone called in unison, with one mulleted exception.

 

“You do it,” Pidge told him.

 

Lance gaped at her.  _ “Me? _ Why?”

 

“For one thing,” Hunk started, “you asked. And you  _ know  _ I need middle, Lance, come on.”

 

“And we’re taking the back,” Shiro added, lacing his fingers with Matt’s as he spoke. 

 

Lance crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at them. “Again,  _ why?” _

 

Shiro stared him down. “We’re not having a repeat of last year.”

 

“What happened last year?” Keith asked as Lance grumbled.

 

Pidge leaned around Hunk to answer him. “Lance poked Hunk in the back and he took off screaming. We looked for him for, like, an hour.”

 

Lance threw his hands in the air. “I  _ said  _ I was sorry! I just wanted to know if he had any more Twizzlers.”

 

He was met with unforgiving glares. “Lance, you’re in the front,” Pidge told him.

 

“Guys,” he whined.

 

A spark of mirth flashed in Pidge’s eyes, and Lance feared for his life. “Keith, will you go with him so he doesn’t lead us down  _ every  _ dead end out of spite?”

 

Keith blinked. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

 

“Oh,” she said, holding back a grin, “it’s a very good idea.”

 

Lance pointed at her. “You’re evil.”

 

She kicked him gently in the shin, ignoring his yelp at the muddy spot she left on his jeans. “Get moving, trailblazer.”

 

With a grumble, Lance led them into the maze.

 

It was dark and quiet down among the cornstalks, and the paths were narrow, so they went slowly at first. They took a few random turns, backtracking once when the path dead-ended around the first corner, but everything was quiet for the moment.

 

Breathing in the cold air, Lance smiled, a shiver of fear and excitement crawling down his spine. He  _ loved  _ this tradition. Beside him, Keith looked tense, head whipping from side to side with every gentle rustle of the leaves, so Lance nudged him.

 

“Relax,” he said. Behind them, Pidge was still speaking reassurances to Hunk, stroking his arm.

 

Keith shot him a look. “Kind of hard to do when we’re walking through the dark waiting for guys with chainsaws to jump out at us.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “Hunk looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.”

 

Lance shrugged. “It’s just because we haven’t seen anyone yet. Trust me, once he gets scared a couple times, he’ll start having fun.”

 

“That’s kind of horrible.”

 

Lance sighed. “Seriously, man, listen, we’ve been doing this for three years. It’s  _ fun.  _ F-U-N. You know what that is?”

 

Keith glared at him. “I know what fun is, Lance. I just have a hard time seeing how  _ this--”  _ he gestured to the dark maze around them-- “qualifies.”

 

“That’s because you’re--”

 

A chainsaw roared in front of them and a figure dressed in black came charging around a corner. Lance and Hunk yelped in sync. The chainsaw-wielding person advanced on them, Scream mask glinting in the moonlight as they revved the motor.

 

“Book it!” Lance yelled, and he ducked down a side path, stumbling a little on the muddy, uneven ground. Keith had been a beat slow in reacting, but he was  _ fast,  _ catching up to Lance in just a few paces as everyone stumbled and slipped on the muddy ground behind them.

 

As soon as the sound of the chainsaw cut out, they slowed back to a walk, gasping and, in most cases, laughing. Keith stared back the way they came, eyebrows furrowed and a hand pressed to his chest. The intimidating set of his face was somewhat softened by the cat whiskers.

 

Lance nudged him again, still grinning. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith replied after a second, turning back to face him. “This is really fun for you?”

 

With another breathless laugh, Lance said, “You’ll see.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Keith didn’t sound convinced.

 

“Sure you don’t want to hold my hand?”

 

_ “Very.”  _

 

“To be fair,” Pidge cut in, poking her face in between them, “Lance hated this the first time we came out here.”

 

“You hated it too!” Lance protested.

 

Hunk stepped in before they could get into a bickering match. “We  _ all  _ hated it. It was cold and terrifying and Pidge fell in the mud.”

 

It was hard to tell in the dark, but Keith sounded like he was speaking with an eyebrow raised. “Then why did you come back?”

 

Lance caught the flash of Pidge’s wide grin. “We got lost in the maze. Like,  _ super  _ lost. And I was still covered in mud.”

 

“And we were all just sort of standing there looking at each other, like, ‘why did we do this, this is insane, how do we get out of here,’” Hunk continued. “And then we just started  _ laughing.” _

 

“At what?” Keith asked.

 

Hunk shrugged. “How miserable we were? How scary it was? How hilarious Pidge looked covered, literally, head-to-toe in mud? I don’t know. Point is, we just let go and let ourselves be scared and cold and muddy and it was really,  _ really  _ fun.”

 

Lance nudged Keith. “You’ve seen horror movies, right? Why do people watch them if they’re scary?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Because,” Lance said, rolling his eyes, “they’re  _ fun.  _ It’s fun to let go and let things happen. Relax. Be scared.”

 

“‘Relax’ and ‘be scared’ don’t belong in a sentence together.”

 

Lance was halfway to slinging his arm around his shoulder before he stopped, abruptly; Keith wasn’t his  _ friend  _ or whatever. Instead, he turned the move into a sweeping wave and tried for nonchalance, resolutely ignoring Pidge’s snicker. “Keith, buddy, by the end of the night, we’ll have your mind changed.”

 

Keith snorted, nose wrinkling a little under the face paint. “Sure you will.”

 

Lance groaned and faced forward again. “Fine, just be grumpy by yourself.”

 

Keith didn’t say anything, but Lance heard Hunk sigh behind them.

 

Well, whatever. He was  _ trying  _ to be civil to Keith, and that was all he had promised Hunk. Keith could decide for himself whether or not he wanted to act like a normal human being.

 

Another person dressed in long black robes and a mask came around the corner, revving their chainsaw as they caught sight of them. Lance skidded to a stop, screeching and shoving at Pidge behind him. “Go!”

 

They fled back the way they came, taking the first right and sprinting for a while. Now Lance and Keith were in back, stumbling after Hunk and Pidge as they took another turn, finally stopping when the roar faded into the distance and another chorus of screams rang out.

 

Lance leaned over to brace his hands on his knees, gasping and laughing and high-fiving Pidge when she turned around to grin at him. “See?” he said to Keith. “Fun!”

 

“You’re insane,” Keith returned, shaking his head, but Lance could see just a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

He leaned up into his face, grinning. “Why, Keith, is that a  _ smile?  _ Are you laughing?”

 

Keith fought to control his face. “No.”

 

Lance punched the air. “Success!”

 

Whooping, Pidge charged at him, jumping on his back. Hunk laughed as Lance hooked his hands under her thighs with practiced ease, staggering to keep them balanced as he danced around in a circle, Pidge’s hands the air above her head. “We did it!” she crowed.

 

Another chainsaw roared a few rows over and everyone yelped and started running again. Lance dropped Pidge so she could catch back up with Hunk, sprinting in front of him. Lance was still laughing breathlessly, staggering a little as he followed. Keith kept glancing back at him.

 

Lance had just raised a hand to wave in acknowledgement at him, let him know he was okay, when Keith suddenly slipped and hit the ground with a startled cry.

 

“Shit!” Lance gasped, skidding to a halt and jogging back the few steps to him. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Keith grumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position and brushing his hands off. “Stupid mud.”

 

“Here.” Lance offered him a hand. Keith took it after a heavy second. “Sure you’re okay?”

 

Keith gave him a sharp look. “It’s not the first time I’ve ever tripped in my life, Lance.”

 

“I  _ know  _ that,” Lance fired back. “I’m just--” He broke off, shaking his head, and took a deep breath. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

Keith deflated. “Right. Sorry. I’m fine, I swear.”

 

Lance looked at the empty maze around them and sighed. “Good, because we’re lost.”

 

***

 

It took them almost an hour to find their friends, and absolutely  _ not  _ because Lance picked the dead end at nearly every fork in the path.

 

Peering down the dark path to their left, Lance pointed at the other fork to their right. “That way.”

 

Keith crossed his arms. “No, it’s this way.” He gestured down the path Lance had just rejected.

 

Glaring, Lance snapped, “How do  _ you  _ know?”

 

Keith returned the scowl as he shoved past him. “I dunno, Lance, maybe I’m psychic. Or maybe I know because you’ve picked the wrong way  _ every single time.”  _

 

“You mullet-wearing asshole,” Lance muttered, stalking after him. They’d been following another group for a while, but they had vanished ten minutes ago after a chainsaw-wielding Jason Voorhees jumped out behind them. Now it was just them, the endless rows of corn, and the distant sounds of screaming.

 

Keith scoffed. “How am  _ I  _ the asshole when you’re the one who got us lost?”

 

Lance gaped at the back of his mullet.  _ “Me?  _ How did I get us lost?”

 

“You took the wrong fork, right at the beginning. I told you I could hear Hunk.”

 

“And I’m telling  _ you, _ that wasn’t Hunk.”

 

Keith came to a stop and waved at the empty maze around them. “Well, if you’re so well-informed, what do you suggest we do?”

 

“I…” Lance’s voice died as a thought occurred to him. A slow smile spread across his face and he broke into laughter. “Oh my  _ god.” _

 

“What?” Keith demanded.

 

“We’re idiots,” Lance wheezed, digging in his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I can just  _ call  _ them.”

 

Keith looked floored.

 

Wiping the tears out of his eyes, still snickering, Lance tapped out a message to their group.

 

_ >>Me: help we’re lost _

 

He glanced up at Keith again, who looked thoroughly chagrined. “I can’t believe we’re so dumb.” 

 

Keith just sighed, turning away to survey the nearby corn. “We’re still going to have to find them.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Lance said as his phone buzzed in his hand. “But it’ll be easier if we can coordinate.”

 

_ >>Hunk: i wondered when u were gonna text _

_ >>we’re waiting at the center of the maze next to the haunted bus _

 

_ >>Me: gotcha. we’ll get there asap xoxox _

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at him as he locked his phone and tucked it away. Lance relayed Hunk’s words. “Great,” Keith said. “Now how are we gonna find the center of the maze?”

 

Lance raised a finger. “Watch and learn, my friend.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he hollered, “Scarers! I need your help!”

 

Keith followed as he started walking again, still yelling. “Seriously?”

 

“They’re employees,” Lance explained in between calls. “They’ll help us out.”

 

It only took them a few minutes to find a helpful employee dressed as Jigsaw, who led them to the center of the maze. The crowds of people thickened as they got closer, until they were weaving through groups of people in costumes and covered in varying degrees of mud.

 

Speaking of, as they stepped into the center of the maze, with all its spooky decorations, there was enough light for Lance to get a good look at Keith. He had mud all over his knees and hands. At some point he must have reached up to touch his face, because he had a smear right across his forehead. Lance snickered.

 

Keith glared at him suspiciously as Jigsaw slipped off back into the crowds, revving their chainsaw to clear a path. “What?”

 

Lance gestured to his own face. “You’ve got a little mud.”

 

Keith sighed and swiped at it. “Did I get it?”

 

Squinting at him, Lance nodded. “Yep.”

 

Over the noise of the crowd and the near-constant chainsaws, someone shouted their names, and they turned to see Pidge waving at them frantically from her seat on Hunk’s shoulders. Lance grinned and waved back, turning to grab Keith’s hand and pull him through the crowd. “C’mon!”

 

Keith made a noise, and for a second Lance was sure he was going to take his hand back, but he followed him through the crowd after a moment’s hesitation. Lance dropped his hand as he approached their friends, pulling a face as he wiped the mud off on his jeans. “Hey, guys.”

 

“Lance!” Hunk rushed forward and swept him into a hug. “I thought you guys were dead in the maze somewhere.”

 

Lance patted him on the back. “Hunk, buddy, come on. You really think I can’t handle a bunch of high schoolers in masks?”

 

Pidge rolled her eyes as Hunk finally released him. “I told you they were fine.”

 

Shiro looked at Keith, and… was that a wink? Lance hadn’t quite caught it in the dim light. “Well, at least you were together.”

 

“Yeah, thanks to you all running off and leaving us behind.” Lance crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose at them, saying with a huff, “Some friends you all are.”

 

“See? Totally fine,” Pidge said to Hunk.

 

“What happened, anyways?” Shiro asked, casting a glance at Keith’s mud-splattered clothes. 

 

“‘What happened?’” Lance echoed. “You  _ abandoned  _ us, that’s all. Poor Keith went down--” Lance threw his arm around Keith’s shoulders “--and you all left him to the wolves.  _ Chainsaw-wielding _ wolves.”

 

Everyone’s eyes shifted to Keith, and Lance felt him tense under his arm. “Damn, dude,” Matt said, “you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just slipped,” Keith mumbled, stiff as a board, and Lance let go as the action finally caught up with him.

 

Waving a hand in the air, Lance said, “Whatever, we survived. You guys ready to keep going?”

 

“Hell yeah. There’s a bag of kettle corn calling my name.” Pidge pushed at Matt’s shoulder to get him moving, dragging Hunk along with her, and they all wove through the crowds to reach the wide path out of the clearing.

 

Lance trailed a few steps behind Hunk and Pidge, who were debating the best forms of popcorn. Shiro dropped back to walk next to Keith, and they traded a few words in voices too low for Lance to make out before Shiro gently pushed Keith up next to him again. “You two, back in front. We’re not losing you again.”

 

“Hey, it wasn’t our fault,” Lance protested.

 

“You’re still the ones who got lost for an hour,” Shiro pointed out.

 

Lance raised a pointed eyebrow at him. “If you were so worried about us, why didn’t you text?” 

 

Shiro’s face gave nothing away. “Why didn’t you?”

 

“I didn’t think about it, okay? We were alone in a dark maze being chased by people with chainsaws! What do you want from me?”

 

Shaking his head, Shiro sighed, “Just walk in the front, please.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Lance mumbled, glancing back to make sure Keith was following as he darted around the rest of their friends to the front of the group. “Ready?” he asked Keith as everyone fell back into their original formation.

 

Keith gave him a quick look and just the hint of what might have been a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

Together, they led the way into the maze.

 

***

 

Lance leaned his chin on his hand and watched in horrified fascination as Pidge devoured her bag of kettle corn. “Where does it all go?” he wondered.

 

Mumbling around a mouthful of half-chewed popcorn, she replied, “I’m a growing girl, Lance. I need my sustenance.”

 

He held a hand over her head, measuring her height. “Pidge, I have some terrible news for you.”

 

“I’ll have worse news for you if you don’t shut the hell up.”

 

Keith snorted from his seat across the table. Shiro, Hunk and Matt had left them there, at one of the tables by the food booths at the exit of the maze, as they went to get everyone a cup of hot cider.

 

Pidge bared her teeth at him. Most of her facepaint had smeared off while they were in the maze, but what was left made her look a little bit like a clown from a horror movie. “Are you laughing at me, Keith?”

 

He raised his hands defensively. “No. I was just thinking about you fighting Lance.”

 

“I would win.”

 

“I know. That’s why I was laughing.”

 

“Hey!” Lance pouted at them, but Pidge just broke into raucous laughter, pulling a smile out of Keith. He still had a little mud on his forehead, but the cat whiskers had survived the night surprisingly well.

 

Lance leaned back in his seat with a crooked smile, watching the crowd around them trickling by, wandering between food booths or on their way out to the parking lot. A group of girls in their early teens walked by, all dressed as witches, and Lance watched them and thought of his little sister back home, smile turning wistful. She’d texted him a few days ago saying she was going as a witch for Halloween that year; she was going to look  _ awesome,  _ he was sure, but he always missed her around the holidays. When she was little he used to take her trick-or-treating in their neighborhood after his older siblings outgrew the tradition.

 

The rest of their friends noisy return broke into his thoughts, and he looked back just in time to catch Keith’s eyes flicking away from him. 

 

“Here you go, dude,” Hunk said, handing him a styrofoam cup, and any every other thought left his head as he reached for the cider with a grateful noise. It was fucking  _ cold  _ out.

 

Matt handed Pidge a cup and snuck the bag of kettle corn off the table when she was distracted, frowning in dismay at how little was left. “Katie, you’re a monster.”

 

“I know,” she replied, unashamed, chugging down half her cider in one go. 

 

Shiro ruffled her hair with a smile and leaned over to give Matt a kiss. “I hate to say it, but I need to get going.”

 

Lance booed him as Keith stood. 

 

Shiro spread his hands. “Sorry. I have a test to proctor tomorrow morning.”

 

“What demon professor is giving tests the week of Halloween?” Lance asked in horror.

 

With a flat look, Shiro just grimly said, “Slav.”

 

Everyone-- except Keith-- groaned and nodded.

 

Hunk poked Lance in the shoulder. “We should get going too.”

 

Sighing, Lance unfolded himself from his chair. Next to him, Matt dragged Pidge to her feet too, holding what was left of the kettle corn over his head as she made a grab for it and serenely saying, “See you guys tomorrow night. Good luck tomorrow, babe,” he added, pulling Shiro in for another kiss. Pidge grabbed the bag of popcorn when he was distracted, faking a retch. 

 

With one last wave, the Holt siblings headed for the front parking lot. Hunk and Lance joined Shiro and Keith as they headed for the overflow parking in the field next to the maze.

 

With a smile, Shiro clapped them both on the shoulder. “We’re parked this way. See you later, guys.”

 

“Bye, guys! See you tomorrow, Keith,” Hunk added, waving.

 

Keith quirked a little smile at him. “Yeah, you too.” After a second of hesitation he added, “Thanks for inviting me.”

 

“Of course,” Hunk replied warmly.

 

Lance pointed a stern finger at him. “You can only thank us if you had fun.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Fine, Lance. Yes, I had fun. Happy?”

 

Lance placed a solemn hand over his heart. “Keith, buddy, I’m overjoyed.”

 

Shiro laughed as they walked away into the dark. “Happy Halloween, guys.”

 

“Happy Halloween,” Lance and Hunk called back, high-fiving at their perfect, unintentional synchronicity.

 

As he and Hunk wandered through the rows of parked cars towards Hunk’s van, Lance breathed a cloud of steam into the air, saying, “Man, cold tonight, huh?”

 

Hunk glanced up at the clear night sky. “Well, it is almost November.” Lance hummed in agreement.

 

A few seconds of silence passed before he noticed Hunk furtively peeking over his shoulder. “What?” he asked, glancing back, but he couldn’t see anything except for rows of dark cars and the crowd of maze-goers in the distance.

 

Hunk nudged him. “Dude.”

 

_ “What?” _ Lance demanded again, instantly on-guard from the shit-eating grin Hunk was sending his way.

 

Hunk motioned for him to hang on as they reached the van and he unlocked it. Lance warily climbed into the passenger seat.

 

_ “Dude,”  _ Hunk reiterated.

 

Lance threw his hands in the air. “Hunk, man, you’re gonna have to give me more to go on than that.”

 

“You and Keith!” Hunk elaborated, reaching over to slap Lance a few times on the shoulder. “You guys  _ bonded.” _

 

There were certain times when the things coming out of Hunk’s mouth just didn’t make sense. Lance gave him his blankest stare to indicate that this was one of those times. “Uhh, no we didn’t.”

 

“You _did,”_ Hunk insisted, starting the van. “You called him ‘buddy,’ for one thing, _and_ you had your arm around him.”

 

“I did  _ not.” _

 

Hunk cast him a look as he carefully backed out of the parking spot. “Yes, you  _ did,  _ dude. I noticed, okay? I take note of these things. I am a note-taker.”

 

“You noticed nothing,” Lance insisted, “because there was nothing  _ to  _ notice. I didn’t ‘bond’ with Keith, he just slipped and fell and I didn’t want to be a dick and leave him behind. That was  _ it.  _ End of story.” He spent a long second staring Hunk down as they waited in the line of cars to pull out of the parking lot.

 

Hunk raised his hands. “Okay, man, sure, cool. You didn’t bond with Keith. That’s cool.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes. “We are not friends. He’s like the human embodiment of a G note on the piano.”

 

“I get it,” Hunk said, a little too agreeably. “Whatever you say. You do  _ not  _ like Keith.”

 

“Okay, I didn’t say  _ that.” _

 

“A- _ ha!”  _ Hunk pointed at him triumphantly. “I knew it! You  _ do  _ like Keith.”

 

Lance groaned, slamming his head back against his seat. “That is  _ not  _ what I said, Hunk. You’re deliberately misinterpreting my words.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not that you  _ like  _ Keith, it’s just that you don’t  _ not  _ like him.” 

 

“Exactly!”

 

Hunk sighed. “Lance, man, come on.”

 

Lance threw an arm out wide. “What do you want from me, Hunk?”

 

“I want-- well, I want you to lean back for a second, I can’t see-- I want you to be honest, okay? With  _ both  _ of us.”

 

Lance looked around the empty van. “What do you mean, ‘both of us?’”

 

Hunk gestured between them as he completed his turn onto the highway back into town.  _ “Us,  _ man. Me  _ and  _ you. You just said you don’t dislike Keith, so how do you feel about him?”

 

Crossing his arms, Lance slid down a little in his seat. “... I don’t dislike him.”

 

“And…?”

 

For a long second, there was only the rumble of the van’s engine and the roar of the tires against the asphalt before Lance threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Okay! Keith isn’t the worst person in the world! He’s a nicer guy than I expected and I don’t  _ actually  _ mind his company even if he did intrude on our Halloween traditions! Is that what you want?”

 

“Is that the truth?” Hunk asked with a tilt of his head and a quick glance over at him.

 

Recrossing his arms, Lance slumped even lower in his seat.  _ “Yes.  _ Keith is okay.”

 

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

“Hunk, buddy, I love you, but I will get out of this car if you keep talking about this.”

 

“We’re going fifty down a country highway, Lance.”

 

“I’m aware.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys? Keith's back. And I'm back. One is a lot more exciting than the other.  
> I'm actually not tired for once, but I still have nothing to say. That naturally leads to the conclusion that I never have anything interesting to say. Ah well.  
> Thank you all for the love and the kudos. We adore them. So much.  
> Enjoy! <3

“You’re up early,” Shiro said when Keith strolled out of his bedroom. ‘Up’ was relative. Sure, Keith was out of bed and walking around, but he was still in sweatpants, his eyes felt like sandpaper, and he was intending on going straight back to bed after grabbing a bagel and some coffee.

 

“Yeah,” Keith grumbled, padding into the kitchen and taking what he’d come for. Grasping the bagel with his teeth so he could carry his mug with two hands, Keith started for his bedroom.

 

The sound of a large book slamming closed split the air and Keith sighed. Slowly pivoting, he said, “No.”

“Why not? You’re awake.”

 

“Because I work. Today is not part of the deal.”

 

“There is no deal.”

 

“You’re right,” Keith said. “You just decided.”

 

Frowning, Shiro said, “No, I didn’t.  _ We _ decided. You were there and you agreed and I’m positive I said you could completely ignore the suggestion.”

 

Sighing, Keith shuffled over to the table and fell into the chair across from Shiro. He set his mug down, took a proper bite of his bagel, and chewed as he stared at Shiro blandly, trying to remember the conversation Shiro was referencing. There were flashes of memory of such a conversation, but he must’ve been barely conscious, because there wasn’t much. Shiro had totally taken advantage.

 

Not that there was anything technically wrong with spending one meal with Shiro on his days off.  He didn’t have to talk, he didn’t have to listen, he just had to eat in the same space with Shiro. And if he had to do that with anyone, Shiro was best.

 

It was just that they didn’t see each other much even though they lived together, what with work and grad school. And they’d both felt it, so they’d decided to  _ make _ time. Keith was just feeling contrary this morning. And tired. And uninterested in going to work. But hanging out with Shiro was something he always wanted to do, even in the mornings. Though he was used to his schedule by now and mornings weren’t nearly as bad, Keith was almost always in a foul mood for an hour or two.

 

For awhile, Shiro let Keith eat in silence and then he said, “You were quiet in the car last night.”

 

“Was I going to be loud?”

 

Shiro laughed, a short, surprised sound. “No, probably not.” When Keith didn’t offer a response to that, he said, “I know Lance goaded you into saying you had fun last night, but did you?”

 

“He didn’t goad me,” Keith mumbled.

 

“So you did, then.”

 

Keith shrugged. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now. The previous night was still a whirlwind of color, insecurities, cider, and Lance. Who, incidentally, was the very reason Keith was trying to block out the whole night. That was a better solution than dwelling.

 

Because Lance was fucking confusing.  If he let himself, dwelling was the least he could do.  Obsessing was more likely.

 

And once the Lance door was open, there was more he could obsess on than Lance’s behavior last night.

 

“I only ask,” Shiro began, breaking through Keith’s thoughts, “because I thought it was great having you there.  It’d been a long time since I’d gotten to spend time with my little brother like that.”

 

“It was fine.”

 

Letting the words linger, making it clear he knew exactly what ‘fine’ meant in Keith speak, Shiro eventually said, voice soft, “They were all happy to have you there, Keith. I know that you probably felt like an outsider, but you don’t have to be. They don’t want you to be. Matt, in fact, assures me that Pidge talks about you quite often.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“So it is, then,” Shiro sighed wearily. 

 

“What?”

 

“It’s about Lance.”

 

“Not everything’s about Lance,” Keith replied, unsure of the antecedent, but sure of his answer.

 

“Apparently something is, though.”

 

Groaning, Keith ate more of his bagel and then leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and dreaming of the bookstore, a place he’d spent more time in than he’d originally anticipated the first time he’d gone.

 

Having a conversation right now, especially one like this, felt like taking one needle at a time out of hundreds and slowly stabbing them into his own arm. After nights like last night, what Keith really needed was a solid twenty four hours completely alone and doing something chill, like watching Netflix or listening to music. Sadly, life didn’t allow for that and hadn’t for a long time.

 

“Did the two of you fight when you got lost?”

 

“No.”

 

“Keith…”

 

“It was just really uncomfortable, okay? The whole thing. I stepped into one of your traditions and pretended like I was supposed to be there, but I wasn’t. I didn’t understand half of the conversations, I slipped and fell and got Lance lost with me, which I’m sure was the last thing he wanted since he definitely didn’t come to hang out with  _ me _ , and it...I’m exhausted. I was exhausted an hour in. Was it fun? Sure. Whatever. It was fun. There were moments where it felt like I was having a good time. Is that what you want to hear?”

 

Shiro nodded. “I just wanted to understand why you seemed upset and now I do.”

 

“Awesome,” Keith replied, finishing off his bagel, overestimating the size of his mouth slightly on the last bite, and left the table. “I’m gonna go do something. I’ll see you later.”

 

“So it has absolutely nothing to do with Lance?”

 

“No!”

 

“You sure? Because if he really is being an asshole to you and Hunk’s lectures aren’t working, I can intervene.”

 

“I don’t want you to intervene,” Keith said, keeping his back turned towards Shiro. There was no need to elucidate how embarrassing that would be. Shiro had to know.

 

Slipping into his room, Keith pulled on jeans and a hoodie, grabbed his phone and keys, and then left, not even bothering to say goodbye to Shiro. Riding on adrenaline--something that always rose when he did something impulsive--and sheer pettiness, Keith didn’t regret it until he had reached the bookstore. Sighing, he bypassed the door, deciding he was too worked up for the aroma of books and stale air. He needed the fresh air. So he stuck to the sidewalks, ending up at a small park with more trees than he’d seen the entire time he’d been living here.

 

Finding a bench, he sat down and watched people walk or run by, some talking to their companions, others on their phones, but almost all of them connected to another person in some way. It made him feel worse about ditching Shiro the way he had, since he was about the only person he talked to outside of work.

 

Although, he’d talked to other people last night, hadn’t he? Sure, it had been with his co-workers, but they hadn’t been at the Planet and they’d talked of things other than work and they’d maybe bonded. He certainly felt more in tune with Hunk and Pidge now. There was something reassuring about seeing their dynamic unchanged in a different environment. They hadn’t treated Keith any different, either.

 

There was a notable absence from that list, though.

 

And here he was, on a bench, in a park he didn’t know the name of, thinking about Lance, the one person he’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about until he absolutely had to, namely when he went to work tonight and saw his face. It would be hard to avoid thinking about him when he was  _ right there _ .

 

At first, Lance had been irritating simply because the way he acted around Keith didn’t make much sense, not to Keith, anyway. But now, he was irritating because Keith could Not. Stop. Thinking. About. Him. And, of course, because it was his fucking life, all that thinking hadn’t bore any fruit whatsoever. Lance still made zero sense and the outing at the haunted corn maze had only made it worse.

 

There had been moments last night where it had almost seemed like Lance...liked him, thought of him as a friend, someone to take consideration of. Not leaving him behind when he’d fallen and offering him a hand to help him up being the most notable example. It was more than that, though. It was the effortless way Lance managed to make the group whole, make even Keith feel as though he were a part of them.

 

What he’d told Shiro had been the truth, just not the whole truth.  He  _ had _ felt like an outsider last night. Except for when Lance had said just the right thing and he’d felt included, whether Lance had meant to do it or not.

 

That was the confusing part. Keith was almost positive Lance had not meant to. Then again, maybe he had. There had been the face painting. The gentle teasing when they’d first entered the maze. The explanations of both the maze and the memories Keith hadn’t been able to share when he’d been at school.

 

There was also the scowl, though, the one Lance had directed towards him the moment he’d arrived. That was burned into Keith’s brain, offering a strong counter to whatever evidence Keith could come up with in an attempt to convince himself Lance didn’t hate him.

 

Since everything needed a contradiction, that wasn’t the only image burned into his brain. This image was the true reason Keith regretted going to the goddamn haunted corn maze, why he’d thought about Lance obsessively all night, why he was still having difficulty thinking of anything else.

 

Enough time had passed that he couldn’t remember it exactly, but his brain had helpfully--or unhelpfully, if you asked him--inserted soft lighting and erased everything but the smell of kettle corn and the feel of the brisk air against the skin of his face. Lance was there, across from him, a lopsided smile lighting up his face, gradually transforming into something thoughtful, but no less bright, as time passed. And it was beautiful. Keith knew his heart had beat strangely when he’d seen it, that most of the world had disappeared, that, even now, just thinking about it, the world  _ was  _ disappearing, becoming something flat and gray compared to something that...radiant.

 

God, the things he would do to make Lance smile like that again. For him. Because of him. Just so he could see it again.

 

_ Asshole _ , Keith reminded himself lamely.

 

Did it have to sound so unconvincing, even just in his head?

 

Sighing, Keith reminded himself it could be worse. He didn’t exactly want anything from Lance and he sure as hell didn’t know anything about him or feel an inane desire to spend all of his time with him. Lance was just pretty. And occasionally entertaining. And he noticed. That was okay. That had to be okay, because if it wasn’t, he was going to lose his goddamn mind. It wasn’t like he could  _ stop _ noticing. He’d already tried that and that had been so overwhelmingly unsuccessful, he’d been forced to admit not even his stubbornness could pull him through and that sometimes, you just had to admit defeat.

 

Because Lance demanded attention. From everyone. Keith was not the only one who had trouble ignoring him. It was the reason every time Keith walked into work, the Planet not yet busy, absolutely no work was being done. It was the reason, when Lance walked into a room, everyone turned to look at him, just to see if he would say or do anything.

 

Keith was not alone.

 

Having reached that conclusion, rather pleased with it, Keith dropped those thoughts as best he could and dug around for his headphones.

 

Finding them, he plugged them into his phone, found some acoustic Led Zeppelin, and leaned back into the bench, letting the music wash over him as he watched a dad trying to herd three little girls, who were dancing around him, through the park.

 

***

 

Today, when he walked into the Planet, Lance was dancing a very reluctant Pidge around the dining room floor, shouting out corrections and sounds of encouragement without stopping for a breath. Sighing, Keith leaned up against the side of one of the booths and watched, probably spending too much time lingering on the line of Lance’s neck whenever he threw back his head to laugh, which was…quite a lot.  

 

When they slowed, Pidge starting to aim her feet for Lance’s feet and shins with every step, Keith pushed himself off the booth and said, “Dancing?”

 

Hunk hurried out from behind the counter and said, “Is it my turn?”

 

Grinning, Lance said, “Yeah, buddy.”  

 

The two of them clasped hands and glided their way around the floor, much more smoothly than Lance and Pidge had. Hunk, in fact, was a pretty good dancer. Impressive, given his size.

 

Coming up beside Keith, still glaring at Lance, Pidge grumbled, “Hey.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Lance letting his imagination run wild.”

 

“What?”

 

Groaning, Pidge hopped up onto one of the booth tables and said, “I was complaining about Matt and Shiro.”

 

“As one does.”

 

“Yeah. They were being extra mushy last night when you and Lance got lost and…well, it doesn’t matter much what they were saying. Anyway, Lance ran with it as Lance does and pretty quickly, he was basically planning their wedding, which led to an impromptu dance lesson, because,  _ obviously _ , we’re all going to dance at Shiro and Matt’s wedding that is so  _ obviously _ happening in the next couple months, because they’re so  _ obviously _ secretly engaged.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Uh huh,” Pidge said. “I got roped in before I knew what was happening.”

 

“You tuned him out, didn’t you?”

 

“He was talking about  _ weddings, _ Keith. Yeah. I tuned him out.” 

 

Smiling, Keith said, “Lance can’t even dance.” That wasn’t entirely true. He was keeping up with Hunk better than he probably could’ve, but he definitely wasn’t good enough to be offering dance lessons of any kind.

 

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

 

“What was that, Mullet?” Lance called.

 

“Oh god,” Keith said.

 

“Abort,” Pidge replied.

 

Swearing, Keith tugged Pidge from the table and pulled her in front of himself. Somehow, it felt like having another body between he and Lance was sound enough protection. Of course, the closer Lance and Hunk got, dancing their way over, the less safe Keith felt.

 

“Hey!” Pidge yelped from in front of him.

 

“Pidge can’t protect you,” Lance called, dropping Hunk’s hands, bowing to him, and then coming over. “Not if you really said what I thought you said.”

 

“Didn’t say anything.”

 

“He said you couldn’t dance,” Pidge blurted. “I heard it.”

 

“I hate you,” Keith mumbled.

 

“Shouldn’t have betrayed me.”

 

“What else was I supposed to do?”

 

“Not say something so stupid?”

 

“I didn’t think he’d be listening!”

 

“I’m always listening,” Lance said dramatically, putting his hands on his hips. Pulling up his sleeve, Lance glanced down at his bare wrist, and said, “Must be time for your dance lesson.”

 

“Like hell.”

 

Pidge started to snicker and abandoned Keith, heading over to Hunk and mumbling something to him. Desperately searching for something to focus on other than Lance, Keith watched them, watched them head back to the other side of the counter, cruelly leaving him to his fate.

 

Glancing back at Lance, who was scowling, Keith felt his blood light up. This he could do. A scowling Lance was easy. A scowling Lance made sense. Sort of. When it came to how Keith would react to him, anyway. Walking past Lance, making sure to bump him in the shoulder, Keith didn’t bother turning his head when he said, “You need a student to teach a lesson.”

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Lance said, following, his steps loud in the relatively quiet Planet. “You can’t call me a bad dancer and then walk away. That’s not how it works. If I’ve got something to prove, I’m gonna prove it.”

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

There was a moment of silence and then Lance called to his back, “I bet you’re worse at dancing than I am.”

 

His feet came to a stop. For the second it took Keith’s brain to catch up, he wondered why he wasn’t moving. When his brain did catch up, Keith internally groaned.

 

The one difference between him and everyone else—everyone else being Pidge and Hunk—was that Keith was incapable of not rising to Lance’s bait. There was something about it that grated against Keith in a way that most people just let go. Maybe it had something to do with how instantly Lance had been an asshole to him, maybe it had something to do with his personality, but whatever it was, there was nothing stopping him from pivoting slowly, glaring, crossing his arms over his chest, and saying, “There’s no way. You’re terrible. An elephant would be better.”

 

Lance flipped him off. “Hunk! Pidge!” he yelled. “We need judges!”

 

This was ridiculous. Somewhere, deep down, where his rational side was buried, having been consumed by his impulsive one, Keith knew that. But all of Lance’s attention was on him and Keith had a desperate desire to keep it there.  

 

Only when Hunk and Pidge had gathered, Lance had filled them in on what exactly they were judging, and then proceeded to hold out his hand for Keith, did it hit Keith exactly what he was doing. He was about to dance with Lance. Just to prove that he was, in fact, worse at dancing.  Surely, he could’ve thought about this afternoon, on the bench, and realized this was such a bad idea.

 

But he was in it now. He sure as hell wasn’t going to back out.

 

Taking Lance’s hand, he stepped forward awkwardly, keeping his eyes fixed on his feet. That was the safest place for them.

 

“Alright, first lesson, Mullet, it’s good to look your partner in the eyes.”

 

Glaring up at him, Keith said, “This isn’t a goddamn lesson, Lance.”

 

“Then you’d better buckle up and put your hand on my waist, ‘cause I’m about to beat your ass.” Then Lance started to move, keeping his back straight, eyes focused, and steps direct. Flicking his eyes back to his feet, uncomfortable with the sudden intensity, Keith stumbled after, making sure not to step on Lance’s feet. That seemed like the least he could do. He was pretty sure stepping on your partner’s feet would be an automatic loss.

 

Almost immediately, it was obvious Lance had infinitely more practice dancing badly than Keith. He also had the charisma to pull it off. Keith did not. Thinking hard, Keith made a sudden move, pulling Lance in the opposite direction and said, “Why do you get to lead?”

 

Jerking Keith back, Lance said, “Why do you suddenly have a problem with it?”

 

“Because I do.”

 

“Wow. Great reason.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“That was sarcasm, idiot.”

 

“Really? I had no idea,” Keith said, making sure to lay on the sarcasm, just to point out that he knew what it was.

 

“I’m leading because I’m  _ clearly  _ the better dancer.”

 

“Maybe I’m better when I lead.”

 

“That’s not how it works!”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Neither of you are even dancing anymore,” Hunk called out. “Makes it kind of hard to figure out who’s better when there’s no dancing.”

 

“Besides, Lance is better,” Pidge said.

 

“Ha!” Lance declared, right into Keith’s face.

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith pinched his waist, grinning when Lance flinched and let out a small yelp. After that, though, no one said a word for a beat, a beat that felt like hours to Keith, and he and Lance weren’t moving and the competition, however fleeting, was over, but they were still holding each other, as though they were about to start right back up again. Swallowing, Keith felt Lance’s hand wrapped around his, warm and soft,  _ actually  _ felt it, and stepped back hurriedly, wrenching his hands away. Something had been shouting at him to close the distance between them, just to see what Lance would do. Because he was deranged.  

 

Clenching his shoulders, making himself smaller, he headed to one of the booths and slumped into it. Lance, clearly not suffering from similarly aggressive internal thoughts, started talking loudly about his victory, while Pidge and Hunk congratulated him mildly. It was a blessing when the phone rang and Lance left to answer it. Hunk came over and patted Keith on the shoulder.  “Perk up, Keith. He really does suck. Promise. You definitely weren’t wrong about that.”

 

Laughing shortly, Keith said, “Yeah.” If only that was what he was really worked up about. 

 

Pidge joined him at the table and said, “You’re an idiot.” The way she said it, it was just a statement of fact.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“We’re gonna hear about it all night, you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

She nodded and pulled out her phone, ending the conversation. Keith gazed at her for a moment, but before he consciously knew what he was doing, his eyes traveled over to Lance, the phone pressed between his face and his shoulder, nodding, his tongue poking out from his mouth as he concentrated on writing down the order.

 

Groaning, Keith let his head fall to the table. It was going to be a long night. A long life, if he didn’t figure out how to control his goddamn thoughts.

 

If only he hadn’t gone to the corn maze. If only Lance hadn’t smiled like that.

 

***

 

It was well into the night by the time Keith got a break from driving. They’d been surprisingly busy so far and Keith hadn’t had an opportunity to take even ten minutes to relax, check his phone, or grab something to drink. None of them had. Besides Pidge, who’d bussed only three tables when Coran had come out and gently scolded all of them for letting her, everyone was a little frazzled and stressed, trying to keep up. 

 

Keith was about to take more pizzas when a ridiculously gorgeous woman walked in, took the pizzas from his hand, and said, “I’ve been told you need a break. I’ve got this. Oh, and make sure you take Lance with you. He needs one as well and I’ve managed to pry Coran away from his crossword puzzle until the two of you get back.” Tapping the bottom of the pizza pile, she murmured, “What else did I want to say? Ah, yes, make it twenty minutes, please, because you really should’ve taken two by now.”

 

Blinking, Keith said, “Uh…”

 

Smiling, she held the boxes with an arm and tucked a white lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m Allura,” she said. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Keith. I’ve heard many things. I’m sure we can talk properly later.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled, still trying to catch up.

 

“Could I borrow your hat? I really should wear one.”

 

Removing it from his head, Keith handed it over silently. She shot him another smile and then disappeared out the back door, still holding all the pizza boxes with one hand, which was hard to do. Keith was relatively confident she could’ve crushed him in an arm wrestling match.

 

As Hunk made pizzas, hands moving so fast, it was hard to track their movements, he glanced at Keith and said, “Yeah. I know.”

 

“Is she always like that?”

 

“Yep. I’m pretty sure if she actually worked here, none of us would have anything to do ever.”

 

Nodding, Keith left the kitchen and found Lance, who was in the middle of taking an order, Coran waiting in the wings to take over, a pen between his teeth as he stared down at a piece of paper in his hand, mumbling to himself. When he noticed Keith, he said, “Ah, Keith. Do you happen to know any Dutch cities?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hm. How about another word for ‘hypnotizing?’”

 

“Um…”

 

“An excellent suggestion, I’m sure, but I’m afraid the answer is twelve letters long. How puzzling.”

 

“Well, it is a puzzle.”

 

Chuckling joyously, Coran said, “Too true, my boy. Too true.” 

 

Thankfully, Lance finished taking the order and Keith nudged him with an elbow. “We’re supposed to go on a twenty.”

 

Nodding, Lance smiled at the next customer and then pulled away. For a second, Keith wondered if he was going to have to prompt Coran into motion, but he seemed to recover awareness of his surroundings at just the right moment and leapt up to the register, greeting the next customer with a huge smile. The woman standing there blinked, clearly surprised by the enthusiasm and Lance laughed lowly, heading towards the front door of the Planet. Keith followed. He was pretty sure they were going to the same place.

 

This time, Lance didn’t say a word about it. In fact, he fell into place beside Keith, uncharacteristically silent. Keith thought about asking what was wrong, but he didn’t know how. Not with most people, but definitely not with Lance. Almost any topic of conversation could be turned into a bickering match with him. When Lance opened the door, holding it for Keith, face distant, Keith had enough. “You alright?” he asked.

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just really tired. Like  _ really _ tired. I was kind of wired after the maze last night. Took me a long time to fall asleep. And now we’re super busy. Why are we so busy?” he moaned, stepping up behind Keith as they entered the arcade bar. “Like, I would rather peel off one of my fingernails right now than serve pizza to people for another second.”

 

Laughing softly, Keith said, “You do know that’s really painful, right?” 

 

“Yes!  That’s the point, dude. I want to be in bed  _ that _ badly.”

 

“Fair.”

 

By then, they’d reached the bar and Matt was there, mixing up a couple of drinks. Shiro was at the other end, taking orders, and as they waited, they watched, Lance more  _ interacting _ , exchanging expressive faces with both Shiro and Matt.

 

Finally, Matt snatched some time and said, “What can I get for you losers?”

 

“Coke’s good,” Keith said.

 

“What he said,” Lance added.

 

“Hey, babe, they want cokes,” Matt shouted down the bar, eyes glittering with amusement.

 

“Kind of busy, babe,” Shiro called back as he poured shots.

 

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

 

“Do you guys ever stop flirting?” Keith groaned.

 

“Nope,” Matt said. “Have you seen your brother? He’s fucking hot. If I’m not flirting with him, I should be. Always. That’s my philosophy, anyway.” Quickly, he poured two cokes and slid them over to Keith and Lance. “Now, we’re kind of swamped, so I’m gonna have to leave you two to entertain yourselves. Think you can do it?”

 

“Have you met me?” Lance asked. “If you looked up ‘entertaining’ in the dictionary, my picture would be there.”

 

“You can’t look up ‘entertaining’ in the dictionary,” Keith said, taking a sip of his coke. “You can look up ‘entertain,’ though.”

 

“It’s a figure of speech, Keith. God.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith took another sip of coke and swiveled on his stool, looking back at the spacious room and all of the arcade games, lined up along the walls. There was a person to every machine, some with friends or significant others hanging behind them, observing. The atmosphere was effusive and Keith felt a little out of place. At least the people watching was good.

 

“Hey, Mullet.”

 

Facing Lance, Keith said, “Yeah?”

 

“You weren’t commiserating with my desire to be in bed, which, to be honest, I found kind of strange.”

 

“Is that a question?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I like working,” Keith said with a shrug. Was it the truth? Not really. But it was the closest thing to the truth that he could fit in three words and without having to explain anything to Lance. Laying out any of his insecurities, for example. That was not something he was going to do for Lance. Ever. That was a sure fire way to get teased endlessly until the day he died.

 

“It’s the Planet.”

 

Keith shrugged again.

 

“Dude, you are not telling me that you actually  _ like _ working here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the people are great and that makes up for a lot, but it’s not a place a person likes working. There’s shitty pizza and irritating customers and grease stains.”

 

Feeling his irritating rise, Keith said, “I like it, okay?”

 

“Okay, weirdo,” Lance said, holding up his hands. Then he tacked on, “Why?”

 

And that was what he couldn’t explain. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, staring straight ahead and drinking more of his soda.  

 

“What kind of answer is that?”

 

“The only one you’re going to get.”

 

Frowning, Lance stared at Keith as though he were a puzzle to solve. Normally, Keith’s irritation would’ve grown, but now that Lance wasn’t talking, and they were staring at each other, Keith started to notice what he always started to notice when Lance’s mouth wasn’t moving. The light in the bar was dim and multi-colored, a range of cooler tones, and they glowed off Lance’s brown skin, creating an image that reminded Keith a lot of a kaleidoscope, the patterns shifting as he moved, just like they would if the kaleidoscope was twisted.

 

It was almost unfair, how attractive he was. What was Keith supposed to do against that?

 

“Do I have something on my face?” Lance asked.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You’re staring.”

 

“Oh. Uh...no. You’re good.”

 

They gazed at each other for a beat too long and then Keith flicked his eyes to his lap, hoping Lance hadn’t seen anything incriminating. He was an idiot, so probably not. Besides, what would his eyes have even been saying? You’re really attractive? There wasn’t technically anything wrong with that.

 

“So did you actually have a good time last night?” Lance asked. “Or did you just say that so I’d leave you alone? Pidge decided you only said it so I would leave you alone.”

 

“It was...weird.  But, yeah, I had fun.”

 

“Sweet. You’ll verify that? Cause Pidge won’t give me ten dollars if you don’t.”

 

Sighing, Keith nodded.

 

“What do you mean by weird?”

 

Looking at Lance, Keith decided to take a chance. Mostly because he was bathed in purple light currently and Keith’s brain lost much of its ability to function. “I don’t know. It’s just something you guys had been doing for together for awhile and it was something I hadn’t been doing and I kind of just...showed up. I guess.”

 

“‘Cause we wanted you there.”

 

“‘We?’”

 

“I mean…” Lance struggled with words for a moment, finishing his entire glass of coke before he tried again. “Yeah, man. Kind of. Whatever. It’s not like I had a  _ problem _ with you being there. You know, it’s kind of hot in here. Lots of people. I think I might go get some fresh air.”

 

Biting down on his lip to prevent himself from smiling, Keith nodded. “I’ll be out once I’m finished.”

 

Giving him a thumbs up, Lance weaved his way through the crowd and out the door. Keith watched the entire way. When Shiro said, “So,” suggestively, indicating he had lot more to say, Keith practically jumped out of his seat.

 

“What?” Keith grumbled.

 

“It’s about Lance.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“I was just wrong about the why.”

 

“Shiro,” Keith said, “please stop talking. I don’t want to break a glass and use a shard as a murder weapon, but I will.”

 

“You  _ like  _ him.”

 

“I really don’t.”

 

Staring him down, Shiro said, “As Matt would say--well, I’m going to butcher this, but...you know those scenes in dramas where one member of the couple stands and walks out, usually after a fight, and the other person watches them leave forlornly? I just witnessed that.”

 

Finishing off his coke in two gulps, Keith stood, slammed the glass down on the bar and said, “I was just staring at his ass.”  Then he left.

 

***

 

Up until the bar closed and a little after, they were just as busy, and very grateful that Allura had come to help. The glimpse Keith had gotten of her before he’d gone on his break was a pretty accurate depiction of who she was as a person. She flitted around, helping out with everyone’s job, managing to stay out of the way when it was required, and she kept everyone sane with kind and often inspirational words. Hunk called them pep talks and he wasn’t wrong.

 

She stayed right up until close, when everyone was yawning and Lance was mopping the floors and singing along to the jukebox. Keith was collapsed in a booth with Shiro and Matt and Pidge, none of whom had left simply because they were too tired to move and it was more fun being miserable as a group.

 

Pausing in his mopping, Lance cocked his hip and glared at all of them. “Why am I always doing all the work?”

 

“You’re never doing the work,” Pidge mumbled, slumping further into Matt’s shoulder. “Plus, Hunk’s doing...something.”

 

“What are the rest of you doing?”

 

“Lance, none of us work here,” Shiro said. “Well, except Keith.”

 

“I just deliver pizzas.” When Lance didn’t resume mopping, he waved his hand and said, “Hurry up. I wanna go home.”

 

“We’re not waiting on me! We’re waiting on time. Gonna speed up time, Mullet?”

 

“Time’s a construct,” Pidge said.   
  


“Great input, Pidgeotto.”

 

“Insightful,” Matt added.

 

Sighing, Lance shot them all another glare and carried on mopping. There were a few clangs from the kitchen and then Hunk wandered out and came up to the booth. “Any room for me?”

 

Keith scooted over, shoving Shiro up against the wall. Grateful, Hunk sank into the booth. His eyes fell on Allura, who was also pressed up against the wall on the other side and he said, “Thanks, Allura. That would’ve sucked without you.”

 

“Still did suck,” Keith said.

 

“Would’ve sucked more.”

 

Smiling, the tiredness showing in her eyes more than anywhere else, she said, “You’re welcome, Hunk. You’re all welcome. Everyone did an excellent job tonight. I’m very proud.”

 

“It’s too late for such positivity,” Pidge slurred. “Keith, say something. Balance us out.”

 

“What did I do to you?”

 

“Besides using me as a human shield?”

 

“I panicked,” Keith mumbled. Pidge opened her eyes, caught his, and smiled. As silence between them fell, she seemed to remember something, abruptly sitting up, disturbing that entire side of the booth. They all straightened, clearly thinking something was wrong. 

 

Finding her phone, Pidge unlocked it and then slid it across the table towards Keith. “Give me your phone number.”

 

“She meant to add ‘please,’” Matt said.

 

“Did not.”

 

Unsure what else to do, Keith started a new contact and added his name and number. When he was done, he returned Pidge’s phone to her, only to find that there were two more phones in front of him, Hunk and Allura’s. Glancing at them, seeing only tired smiles, Keith slowly gave them his number as well. They mumbled thank you’s and then fell back into silence, eyes closed. Matt had started to snore lightly.

 

Thankfully, it was quickly four and they were all free to leave, Lance done mopping. They shut off the lights and poured out together, Lance locking up after them. Pidge and Matt and Shiro quickly split off from them, saying quick goodbyes.

 

Not long after, they arrived at Keith’s car. Heading towards it, he said, “See you guys tomorrow.”

 

Yawning, Hunk said, “Bye, Keith.”

 

Surprisingly, Lance lingered behind, looking slightly awkward but determined.

 

“What?” Keith asked.

 

“You’re seriously not going to give me your number?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Everyone else got it!”

 

Eventually catching up, Keith held out his hand. Lance slapped the phone into Keith’s open palm and as Keith entered his number, he said, “Are you even going to use it?”

 

“That’s not the  _ point,  _ Mullet. It’s the principle of the thing.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith said, “Well, you can. If you want. I might even answer.” After taking a moment to appreciate the quiet surprise on Lance’s face, Keith said goodnight, then got into his car and drove home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's johann sebastian bach baby
> 
> i know we keep saying it, but thanks for the kudos and comments, y'all! we really do appreciate it.
> 
> also, fun fact: with this chapter our word document passed a hundred pages. that is a lot.

Lance propped his arms on the steering wheel and leaned forward to peer up at the sky as he waited for the light to change. It was  _ pouring,  _ the kind of sudden rainstorm that thundered against the windshield of Hunk’s old beater van so hard he was sure the glass was about to shatter, the kind that filled gutters in ten minutes and turned the streets into rivers for hours. In short, it was Lance’s  _ favorite  _ kind of storm. There was nothing like the sound of rain on the roof and the smell of the freshly-washed air.

 

The light turned green. Humming along to the radio, Lance carefully accelerated through the intersection, which was well on its way to turning into a lake. 

 

A couple blocks down, his eyes caught on a figure standing forlornly under a tree, and he almost slammed on the breaks in surprise. Even half-drowned, he would recognize that mullet anywhere.

 

He’d only seen Keith at work the last couple weeks, after the corn maze, and he’d still never texted him. Hunk kept saying they should have him over for one of their semi-regular movie nights with Pidge; Lance didn’t  _ disagree,  _ necessarily, but he kept putting it off whenever Hunk brought it up. He may have admitted to not actively disliking Keith, but he was going to be damned if he voluntarily let him into his home, into his life outside work; he’d do that on his own terms, when Keith had proved himself truly worthy of his valuable time. 

 

But now he was  _ right there  _ in front of Lance, wearing just his dumb leather jacket with no raincoat or umbrella in sight, staring up at the dark skies in dismay as water dripped from the tips of his mullet, and Lance may not have been trying to seek out his company but he wasn’t heartless, so he flicked his turn signal on and pulled over, flipping off the car behind him that honked as they swerved to avoid his sudden stop.

 

He leaned across the seat to crank the window down-- curse Hunk’s ancient van-- and couldn’t stop the smile that flashed across his face at Keith’s dumbfounded expression. “Did someone order a pizza?”

 

“How…did you…” Keith fumbled, eyes wide.

 

“Hmm, yes,” Lance ran a finger over an imaginary clipboard. “Looks like we have one order for a Shirogane.”

 

“That’s not my name.”

 

Whatever response Lance had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “I thought you and Shiro were brothers.”

 

“Adopted. My last name is Kogane.”

 

And geez, how had Lance been working with this guy for over a month and not known that? Well, actually, he’d never learned Rollo’s last name. Also, he was pretty sure Rollo wasn’t his legal name. It sounded like a joke some stoned kid made once that stuck for way too long.

 

Lance blinked, pulling himself out of that particular tangent of thought. Keith was still staring at him, one eyebrow slowly rising to vanish under his soaked bangs. “Oh. Chill.” Fucking nailed it. “Well, hop in, dude, you look like a drowned rat.”

 

Keith hesitated for a second.

 

Rolling his eyes, Lance leaned across the seat again to pop the door open. “Get  _ in,  _ Keith. You’re going to die of pneumonia or something if you stay out here.”

 

Keith pulled the door open and hopped in after one last second of hesitation. “You know that’s a myth, right?”

 

Lance snorted. “Of course I do. I’m a bio student, remember? Get the window, would ya?” he added, flicking his blinker on and pulling back into traffic.

 

Keith rolled the window back up, wrinkling his nose at the drops that spattered through the gap, an expression Lance barely caught out of the corner of his eye. He had to fight the urge to risk a traffic accident just to turn and look; there was something about Keith’s facial expressions that were somehow more compelling than other people’s. Lance figured it was just the relative rarity of them; Keith hardly ever left the range of “sullen.”

 

Although, actually, that wasn’t quite true anymore. Over the last couple weeks, there’d been a change in Keith’s presence at the Planet. He scowled just as much but he smiled more, even laughed a few times, and now instead of hanging out in some dark corner like a vampire bat, he spent nearly all his free time sitting with Pidge or chatting with Hunk. On occasion, he’d even come lean up against the counter next to Lance, watching him clean or take orders with those dark eyes. If Lance thought about it-- and he  _ hadn’t,  _ because he did  _ not  _ spend his free time thinking about Keith of all people-- but if the stray thought had crossed his mind once or twice, hypothetically, at five in the morning when he was laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling and drifting off to sleep-- if he had ever thought about it, he would say that it was starting to feel like Keith belonged there. Like maybe, just maybe,  _ Keith  _ was starting to feel like he belonged there.

 

If that thought  _ had  _ ever crossed his mind, it might have been followed by a brief thought, washed in colorful neon lights, that Lance himself could possibly be the reason for that.

 

But nope, there was no way he would ever spend that much time picking apart someone else’s facial expressions. Definitely not someone he didn’t even  _ like.  _ So he cleared his throat and asked, “So, where you headed?”

 

Keith blew out a sigh and leaned back against the seat. “Well, I was going to the bookstore, but…” He held his arms out, dripping onto the floormats. “Sorry about the seat,” he added.

 

Lance waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, this baby’s been through worse.” He patted the wheel affectionately. “Pidge once lost most of a Slurpee through her nose in the backseat.”

 

“I would ask for details, but…”

 

“It wasn’t pretty,” Lance said sagely. “We’ll leave it at that. So should I drop you back at Shiro’s place? Your place, I mean?”

 

“Ah,” Keith said.

 

Lance glanced over at him. “‘Ah?’”

 

“Well, I left the apartment because Shiro was having Matt over…”

 

_ “Ah,”  _ Lance echoed. “Yeah, so that’s a no-go.”

 

“That’s one way to put it.”

 

At the next light, Lance took the opportunity to cast another critical eye over Keith. He was soaked to the bone, and from the way his arms were crossed over his chest, he had to be freezing. There was no way he would be comfortable if Lance just dropped him off somewhere; besides, even though the rain was letting up a little, it showed no signs of stopping, and Keith had to get home at some point. “Why didn’t you drive, man?”

 

“It wasn’t raining when I left,” Keith said. “And I...walking’s nice.”

 

Lance shook his head sadly. “You really are an out-of-towner, huh? Well, luckily for you, I have a dryer at my place.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“‘Oh?’ The fuck does that mean, Mullet? You got somewhere better to be?”

 

“Maybe I do,” Keith retorted. 

 

_ “Do  _ you?”

 

Keith hesitated. “No.”

 

“So what’s the big deal, then?” Lance asked heatedly, the tires of the van sending up spray as he turned through a puddle. “It’s just my apartment.” 

 

A voice somewhere in the back of his mind that sounded remarkably like Hunk reminded him that up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t actually wanted Keith in his apartment at all. Thankfully, this was a voice Lance had a lot of practice ignoring.

 

“There’s no deal,” Keith insisted, crossing his arms again. “I was just…”

 

Lance shot him a sideways look.  _ “Just?” _

 

“Surprised,” Keith mumbled, slumping a little, and he looked just miserable enough to take most of the wind out of Lance’s sails.

 

“Well,” he said after a beat, “we’re almost there, anyways, so.”

 

Keith nodded wordlessly, and silence fell between them, heavy and awkward. Lance fiddled with the radio dial until he found something he could sing along with quietly.

 

After a few lines, he noticed Keith giving him a weird look. “What?”

 

“Nothing. I just figured your musical taste would be broader than songs from the 80’s.”

 

“Okay, one,” Lance held up a finger as he spoke, “fuck you, Journey is timeless. And two, with hair like yours, I can’t  _ believe  _ you don’t like this.”

 

Keith flattened his damp locks protectively. “Would you lay off my hair?”

 

“Not while it’s still alive to insult my eyes.”

 

“Hair isn’t alive.”

 

“I  _ know--”  _ Lance forced himself to stop and take a deep breath. “You can put on whatever you like,” he grumbled, nodding to the radio.

 

Keith shot him a doubtful look. “Really?”

 

“I offered, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah, but you don’t even let me touch the jukebox.”

 

“That’s different. The jukebox is sacred.”

 

“This station has all the same music.”

 

_ “Sacred,  _ Keith. You can’t mess with that.”

 

“Whatever,” Keith mumbled, leaning forward to fiddle with the dial. As Lance glanced over at him, his eyes caught for a second on the way Keith’s wet hair curled against the nape of his neck.

 

He tore his attention back to the road as Keith sat back up, listening for his music choice. “Alt rock, really?”

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Keith asked, defensive.

 

“Nothing, dude, nothing, but you’re  _ such  _ a stereotype.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“You wear  _ fingerless gloves.” _

 

“They’re comfortable!”

 

Lance just shook his head sadly as he pulled into the parking garage under the apartment complex. “What will we do with you, Linkin Park?”

 

“Listen,” Keith started hotly, but Lance interrupted him.

 

“Keith, dude! I’m kidding. I really don’t care what music you listen to or what clothes you wear.”

 

Deflating, Keith mumbled, “Oh. Right. Obviously.”

 

“The mullet is still terrible, though,” Lance added, grinning, as he parked.

 

Keith shot him a sharp look, but after a second he cracked a smile too. “Shut up, Lance.”

 

“Never,” Lance declared, hopping out of the van. “Now come along, David Bowie. You look like someone fished you out of the river.”

 

***

 

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven,” Lance announced as he stepped through the front door into the living room.

 

Keith followed him in, dark eyes sweeping over the hoodies thrown over the back of the couch and the dirty dishes and textbooks strewn across the coffee table. “Wow. A five-star establishment, for sure.”

 

Lance stopped halfway down the hall, peering at him. “Was that a joke? Does Keith Kogane’s sense of humor actually have a pulse?”

 

Shooting him a look, Keith said, “It’s got to, to put up with you.”

 

Lance gasped and placed a hand over his chest before stepping into his room. He chucked his backpack at the foot of his bed and went back into the hall.

 

Keith was hovering awkwardly in the entrance, looking around again. He seemed to be staring at the Star Wars poster. Lance came up beside him. “It’s Hunk’s.”

 

Keith jumped. “What?”

 

“The poster,” Lance said, nodding at it. “It’s Hunk’s. He loves Star Wars.”

 

Keith shot him a glance before his eyes skated away again. “You don’t?”

 

Lance shrugged. “More of a Trekkie.” He considered Keith for a second. He was still pretty wet, a few drops pattering off his hair, and from the way he was standing, those soaked skinny jeans couldn’t be comfortable. “You’re drenched, dude. Let me grab you a towel and some dry shit.”

 

Keith’s face adopted a deer-in-the-headlights look, but he stammered, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

 

“Sure,” Lance said with a shrug, ducking back into his room to grab some clothes. He stood in front of his closet, frowning. Keith was a little shorter than him, but they were nearly the same size, so most of his clothes should fit. He had to be freezing though, so he grabbed his thickest university sweatshirt and a pair of warm sweatpants before heading back into the hall to rummage through the closet for a spare towel.

 

“Aha!” he said triumphantly, pulling one out. “Here.” He held the bundle out to Keith, who approached slowly, and nodded down the hall. “Bathroom’s on the left.”

 

Delicately, Keith took the bundle, cold fingers brushing his. “Thanks,” he said again.

 

Lance couldn’t help but smile at his quiet gratitude. “No worries, man.”

 

As the bathroom door closed, Lance dropped onto the couch, frowning at the blank TV as his brain took the quiet moment to catch up. How had  _ Keith  _ ended up in his apartment? Like, logically, he  _ knew  _ how, but still. Holy fuck.

 

He scooped up the remote and clicked the TV on. His life may not make sense, but reality shows would always be there for him.

 

A couple minutes later, Keith padded into the living room, significantly dryer. There was a second where Lance glanced up at him and their eyes caught, whatever words Lance had been about to say dying on his tongue as he took in the sight of Keith in his baggy sweats and hoodie. They made him look--  _ younger, _ almost, relaxed in a way Lance wasn’t used to seeing in Keith.

 

Keith broke the silence, nodding at the screen. “What are you watching?”

 

“Oh, uh...” Lance glanced back at the TV as some girl threw a hairbrush across the room. “Some garbage, I dunno.”

 

With a quiet laugh, Keith sat down on the other end of the couch. “I kind of put my clothes in your dryer. Is that cool?”

 

“Yeah, man, you’re good.” Thick silence sat between them for another second before Lance pushed the remote over to him. “You can put something on if you want. I’m gonna make some cocoa, you want any? Or like, tea or coffee or something?”

 

“Um, cocoa would be great, actually, if you know...you really want to make me some.”

 

Lance snorted, and just like that, the weird tension eased. “I offered, didn’t I?” he tossed over his shoulder as he grabbed a few dirty dishes from the coffee table and walked into the tiny kitchen to deposit them in the sink.

 

He sang under his breath to the Journey song still stuck in his head as he pulled the milk out of the fridge and filled a couple mugs. As he waited for them to heat in the microwave, he slid his phone out of his pocket and texted Hunk, listening to Keith flipping through channels in the other room.

 

_ >>Me: yo keiths at the apartment _

_ >>(also we need milk) _

 

_ >>Hunk: ????? explain _

_ >>(im going shopping tomorrow) _

 

_ >>Me: (<3) _

_ >>i found him drowning in the rainstorm like half an hour ago n he looked pathetic _

_ >>**more pathetic than usual _

 

_ >>Hunk: well i was going to say that was nice of you but. you ruined it. _

 

_ >>Me: ;x _

_ >>when you coming home? _

 

_ >>Hunk: hour or two idk _

 

_ >>Me: kay have fun studying!! _

 

_ >>Hunk: ugh _

 

_ >>Me: or…. studying ;))) _

 

_ >>Hunk: UGH _

 

Lance snorted as he finished stirring the cocoa powder into the mugs. Snagging his phone back up off the counter and sliding it into his pocket, he carefully gathered the mugs and carried them back into the living room. “Ta da,” he sang, setting one down on the coffee table in front of Keith before settling back into his spot. 

 

“Thanks,” Keith said, reaching out to pick the mug up and cradle it in his hands.

 

“No problem, dude,” Lance said, blowing on his cocoa before taking a sip, smacking his lips and releasing a long, satisfied sigh. 

 

Keith glanced at him, corner of his mouth twitching up as he brought his own mug to it. 

 

“What?” Lance demanded, grinning back. “I make good cocoa.”

 

Keith hummed into his mug. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You do.”

 

The compliment threw Lance for a bizarre and unexpected loop.  _ “Yeah _ I do,” he muttered into his own drink after a second. Keith shot him a look somewhere between amused and confused.  _ Amfused,  _ Lance’s brain supplied. He wrestled it back into silence.

 

“So, what are we watching?”

 

Keith shrugged. “There’s nothing on except this dumb sci-fi movie.”

 

Lance looked at him with a solemn expression, pressing a hand against his chest. “Keith, I think those are the most beautiful words you’ve ever said to me.”

 

“You’re serious.”

 

Nodding, Lance settled further into the couch. “There is no greater joy in this world than dumb sci-fi movies.”

 

Keith huffed a laugh. “You’re easy to please.”

 

“Sure am, baby,” Lance said with a wink and a wide grin. Keith choked on his cocoa and Lance broke into laughter.  _ “Kidding,  _ man, I’m kidding.”

 

Keith mumbled something Lance couldn’t hear, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Lance snorted but let it go. “So what have I missed?”

 

Keith squinted at the screen. “I have no idea. Something stupid, probably.”

 

“Even better,” Lance declared.

 

Silence fell again, but it was much easier this time as they settled in to watch the movie. Occasionally, Lance would make a comment on the terrible plot or dialogue, but honestly, the movie was pretty incomprehensibly dumb. Eventually he settled for just laughing at the terrible special effects. 

 

After about half an hour, though, his interest slipped over to Keith, who didn’t seem to be watching at all. Instead, he was slowly flipping through one of Lance’s textbooks sitting on the end table next to him.

 

Lance muted the TV as it went to commercials. “Interested in genetics?”

 

Keith looked over sheepishly, closing the textbook gently. “Sorry.”

 

Lance shook his head, resettling on the couch to face him a little more squarely. “You’re all good, dude. You like bio?”

 

Keith shrugged. “Not really. I’m more of a physics guy.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Well, most people would just say they don’t even like science, so yeah, I do.”

 

Keith sighed, eyes sliding away from Lance’s. “I… used to be an astrophysics major.”

 

“Used to be?” Lance echoed. “Did you drop out?”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he kicked himself. Keith wouldn’t look at him anymore, just answering with a mechanical, “Yeah,” as he seemed to withdraw into himself.

 

Lance studied him for a second before shrugging. “Well, hey, college isn’t for everyone.”

 

All he got in reply was a one-shouldered shrug. 

 

“I mean, jesus,” Lance tried, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about dropping out.”

 

Keith finally shot him a sideways look. “Yeah?”

 

Encouraged, Lance nodded. “Constantly, man. I had this class last term where I just felt totally lost the whole time.”

 

With a ghost of a smile, Keith said, “Well, at least you’re used to that.”

 

Lance pulled a look of shock on him, even though he couldn’t quite hide his smile. “I  _ never.  _ I invite you into my home, give you my clothes, make you cocoa, and  _ this  _ is how you repay me?”

 

Keith laughed at that, and now Lance really couldn’t help the wide grin spreading across his face. He’d seen Keith laugh before, of course, but  _ making  _ Keith laugh felt different somehow. 

 

His phone buzzed against his hip, interrupting his thoughts. He unmuted the TV as he pulled it out, and Keith went back to flipping through his textbook. Lance glanced over at him as he unlocked his phone, offering the remote. “You can change it if you want.”

 

Keith shrugged, pulling the book into his lap. “I’m good.”

 

“Nerd,” Lance teased. Keith flipped him off.

 

Laughing, Lance opened the text.

 

_ >>Pidge: i hear u have a new bf _

 

Lance choked.

 

Keith looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “You okay?”

 

“Fine,” he wheezed, tapping out a reply to Pidge.

 

_ >>Me: wTF GREMLIN _

_ >>one: i have no idea who yure talkig about _

_ >>two: no i do not _

_ >>three: HOW DO YOU KNOW HES IN MY HOUSE _

 

_ >>Pidge: 1) yes u do 2) see above 3) hunk _

 

_ >>Me: traitors youre all traitors _

 

_ >>Pidge: u cant run from the truth _

 

_ >>Me: THERE IS NO TRUTH _

_ >>i found keith abandoned on th side of the road like a sad puppy _

_ >>what was i supposed to do, leave him there??? _

 

_ >>Pidge: ok but u took him home w u _

_ >>instead of say _

_ >>his home _

 

_ >>Me: yeah well your brother is over at his home rn _

_ >>did you really want me to subject him to that _

 

_ >>Pidge: o god _

_ >>stop talking _

 

Lance snickered as he sent her a barrage of eggplant emojis. Keith shot him another look, and Lance wiggled his phone at him. “Pidge,” he explained.

 

A smile curled at the edge of Keith’s mouth and he nodded.

 

_ >>Pidge: i h8 u _

 

_ >>Me: payback _

 

_ >>Pidge: i did nothing 2 u i merely spoke the truth _

 

_ >>Me: fuk off gremlin _

_ >>its not like that _

 

_ >>Pidge: what is it like _

 

_ >>Me: im not saying it _

 

_ >>Pidge: cmon lance _

 

_ >>Me: no _

 

_ >>Pidge: lance _

 

_ >>Me: pidgeon _

 

_ >>Pidge: if u dont say it ill start sending keith pictures of u from high school _

 

_ >>Me: FUK YOU THIS IS BLACKAMIL _

 

_ >>Pidge: yes i know _

_ >>now do it _

 

_ >>Me: jESUS _

_ >>FINE _

_ >>KEITH IS HERE BECAUSE HES MY FRIEND _

 

And the thing was, even though Pidge was twisting his arm about it, it really  _ did  _ feel like the truth. There was an undercurrent of familiarity, almost  _ warmth,  _ in just sitting here on the couch with Keith and chilling; he couldn’t quite pinpoint where it came from, or when it had started. Maybe that night he kicked his ass at the dance competition, or before that at the corn maze, or even farther back, that first week, when Keith threw a garlic knot at his face. The point was, Lance didn’t know when it started, but Keith  _ was  _ his friend. Lance just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

 

_ >>Pidge: [applause] _

_ >>was that so hard _

 

_ >>Me: why do people keep saying that to me _

 

_ >>Pidge: bc ur a dramatic baby _

 

_ >>Me: blocked _

 

_ >>Pidge: ud never u need me for help w calculus _

 

_ >>Me: i have hunk _

 

_ >>Pidge: cold _

 

_ >>Me: ….and i love you _

 

_ >>Pidge: gross _

_ >>but acceptable _

 

_ >>Me: <3 _

 

He snorted as Pidge sent him a middle finger emoji before locking his phone and tossing it back onto the coffee table. 

 

“So where’s Hunk?” Keith asked, running a hand through his drying hair.

 

“Studying with his friend Shay. She’s another mechanical engineering major,” Lance explained as he grabbed his mug and took a sip. The cocoa was stone cold.

 

Keith laughed a little at his grimace. 

 

“Shut up,” Lance muttered, setting his mug down.

 

Keith propped his elbow on the arm of the couch and rested his chin in his hand. “Why are you majoring in bio?”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Lance said, “Nice segue.”

 

“Sorry if my attempt to be conversational wasn’t good enough for you.” After a brief stretch of silence, Keith continued. ”But, uh, question still stands.”

 

With a frown, Lance settled back against the cushions. “Honestly? I don’t know. Most bio majors go into a medical field or research, but…” He sighed. “I hate those ideas. Biology is just something I’m  _ okay  _ at. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be passing my classes,” he admitted, smiling ruefully. “Pidge is the only thing getting me through calculus. Without her, and Hunk always badgering me to do my homework, I’d probably fail out.”

 

Keith looked at him for a long second, brow furrowed, before saying, “Well, hey, lots of people drop out.” With a tiny, wry smile, he gestured to himself.

 

“Dropping out and failing aren’t the same thing,” Lance pointed out, but he grudgingly returned Keith’s smile. Clearing his throat, he stood, grabbing his mug and gesturing to Keith’s. “You done?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Keith handed it over.

 

Lance deposited the mugs in the sink and ran some water into them, taking a second to draw a long, deep breath and let it out slowly before he returned to the living room. “So this movie is  _ truly  _ awful. Wanna play some Smash Bros instead?”

 

The grin that spread across Keith’s face was almost evil, sending a rush of adrenaline through Lance’s system. “You’re on.”

 

***

 

Lance wasn’t bad at Smash, but Keith played  _ dirty.  _ He specialized in spam attacks, racking up damage until he could knock Lance’s character out. After a few rounds of losing, Lance quickly defaulted to his main character, Samus. He knew all the best combos for her moves, had the timing down  _ perfectly,  _ and he was still having enough trouble he resorted to trying to knock Keith’s controller out of his hands.

 

“Get off, Lance,” Keith growled, eyes locked on the screen, trying to elbow Lance away.

 

Lance just leaned even more of his weight against him, practically knocking him off the couch. “Never! No one is allowed to be this good with  _ Pit  _ of all characters.”

 

“Well, you banned me from Pikachu.”

 

“For good reason!”

 

“The lightning is a mechanic of the game!”

 

“What are you guys doing?” Hunk’s voice interrupted them, and Keith glanced over as he leaned against the back of the couch. Lance took the opportunity to smash him off the stage, sitting back up with a triumphant whoop.

 

“Hey!”

 

Lance held a hand out to high-five Hunk. “Thanks for the assist, big guy.”

 

Hunk slapped his palm. “You got it.”

 

“Seriously?” Keith demanded as Pit dropped back into the stage.

 

“Sorry, man,” Hunk said, standing back up and walking around the couch to sit down next to Lance.

 

It only took a few seconds before Pit sent Samus flying. Lance threw his hands up with a disgruntled noise as the announcer declared Pit the winner.  _ Again.  _ “You’re a monster.”

 

Keith laughed as Lance tossed his controller onto the coffee table with a grumpy sigh, setting his own down with a lot more care. “Shiro refuses to play this with me anymore.”

 

Hunk nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Lance was being nice by playing this with you. I don’t think anyone’s beaten him in MarioKart in eight years.”

 

Lance shot him a grin. “Well, yeah. You guys are so bad it’s not even fun anymore.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Hunk snorted. “Hi, Keith, by the way.”

 

A crooked smile pulled at the corner of Keith’s mouth as he raised his fingers in a little wave. “Hey.”

 

“How was  _ studying?”  _ Lance stressed the word, grinning as a pink flush spread over Hunk’s face.

 

“Shut  _ up,  _ Lance. It was good. I think I’ve got this midterm in the bag.”

 

Lance patted him on the shoulder. “I believe in you.”

 

“Thanks, dude.”

 

Keith stood, suddenly, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly. “Um, I should probably get home. I’ve gotta change before work.”

 

Glancing at his phone, Lance winced. “Ah, shit, I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry, man.” He stood, tucking his phone in his pocket and looking around for the keys before catching sight of the look Keith was giving him. “What?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Looking for the keys?” Lance said slowly. “So I can drive?”

 

“They’re on the kitchen counter,” Hunk offered.

 

Lance shot him a fingergun. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

“You got it.”

 

“No, I mean-- you don’t have to give me a ride,” Keith mumbled.

 

Lance snorted. “What are you going to do, walk again? It’s still raining.” He nodded towards the window. “Plus, we’re at  _ least  _ half an hour from Shiro’s place on foot now.”

 

“It’s really not--”

 

“It’s no big deal,” Hunk said placatingly, also rising from the couch. “Besides, we have to go to the store anyways.”

 

Lance frowned. “We do?” Hunk shot him a look. “I mean-- yeah, right, we do.”

 

Keith hesitated another second but relented finally. “Well, if you guys are going out anyways…”

 

Hunk and Lance both nodded fervently. “Yep,” Hunk said. “Definitely are.”

 

“We planned this,” Lance added. 

 

Keith sighed one last time. “I’m gonna go grab my clothes.”

 

“Sure thing, man.” Lance watched him walk down the hall and disappear into the bathroom before Hunk got his attention with a slap to his arm. “Ouch! What the heck was that for?”

 

_ “Dude,”  _ Hunk hissed, grinning.

 

Lance pointed a threatening finger at him. “Do not start with me now, Hunk. You already set Pidge on me.”

 

“Um,  _ yeah.”  _ Hunk’s eyes widened in an earnest expression as he spoke. “It’s a big deal! You’re  _ willingly  _ spending time with Keith.”

 

“It’s not like I  _ planned  _ this,” Lance whispered as loud as he dared.

 

“That’s even more--”

 

“Everything okay?” Keith asked from behind Lance, and he whirled, desperately trying for a neutral face.

 

“Yep! Yep, we are all good. Good to go. Hunk and I were just arguing about--” he cast his mind around desperately.

 

“Ice cream flavors,” Hunk supplied.

 

Lance nodded. “Yep, that was it.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at them. He’d changed back into his jeans and shoes, but he was still wearing Lance’s sweatshirt. He tugged at the neckline with an apologetic look. “Is it okay if I borrow this? My jacket’s pretty wet still.”

 

Lance flapped a hand at him. “No worries. Not like I’ll never see you again,” he added with a wink.

 

Keith’s eyes widened a fraction before he ducked his head. “Yeah. True,” he mumbled.

 

Hunk stood and walked to the door. “You guys ready then?”

 

With a sweep of his arm, Lance said, “Lead the way, buddy.”

 

Together, they trooped down to the parking lot. Lance unlocked it and they all piled in; Keith refused to take the passenger seat, so he was in the back by himself. 

 

As Lance pulled out onto the street, Hunk glanced back at Keith. “So, got any plans for Thanksgiving?”

 

“Not really,” Keith said. Lance glanced up to meet his eyes for a second in the rearview mirror.

 

“You and Shiro gonna do something?” he asked.

 

“Maybe. I think Matt will still be here.”

 

Hunk nodded. “Yeah, he and Pidge usually only go home for Christmas.”

 

There was a soft rustle in the backseat, and when Keith spoke again, he sounded closer, like he’d leaned forward. “How about you guys?”

 

Hunk shrugged. “We’re going home. Lance always goes home for the holidays.”

 

“More like my mom  _ makes  _ me,” Lance grumbled, changing lanes to make a turn.

 

“You love it, dude, don’t lie.”

 

Lance grinned ruefully.  _ “May _ be. Plus, Lacie would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t. My little sister,” he explained for Keith’s benefit.

 

Keith hummed in understanding.

 

“Definitely,” Hunk teased. “Anyways, yeah, we’ll drive down for a few days. Allura and Coran will fill in for us. It’s pretty slow Thanksgiving weekend anyways.”

 

“Won’t be the same without us, though,” Lance joked, glancing at Keith again in the rearview mirror. “You gonna miss us, Mullet?”

 

Keith shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess.”

 

Lance reached up to grab at the front of his hoodie, wincing dramatically. “Shot through the heart.”

 

Hunk eyed him nervously. “Hands on the wheel, Lance.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Besides, we’re already there.” True to his word, Lance carefully edged into a curbside spot in front of Shiro’s apartment. 

 

Keith unbuckled and scooted over to the door, hesitating with his fingers on the handle. “Thanks,” he said to Lance. “For...everything. I’ll get your sweatshirt back to you soon.”

 

Lance shook his head, flapping a hand. “Don’t worry about it, man, no rush. Besides, like I said, it’s not like I don’t know where to find you.” He jerked his head towards the apartment with a grin.

 

Keith returned the smile. “Right. Well, see you guys later.” With that, he hopped out of the van, slamming the door behind him and ducking into the main entrance of the apartment.

 

Lance waited until he unlocked the door, giving him one last wave as he glanced back before slipping inside.

 

As soon as he was out of sight, Hunk turned to him. “I just want to start by saying I am so proud of you for getting over your differences with Keith. Also, I told you so.”

 

Lance groaned. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?” he asked, resigned.

 

“Sorry, buddy, that’s gonna be a  _ no.”  _

 

***

 

“I still can’t believe it,” Hunk said as they pulled into the parking lot of the Planet.

 

Lance rolled his eyes, popping another fruit snack into his mouth and chewing around a loud groan. He’d bought a new box when they stopped by the grocery store after dropping Keith off, and he’d already eaten three packets. “Hunk, man, c’mon. I told you it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

 

“It  _ is  _ though,” Hunk insisted, turning the van off and climbing out after Lance. “Like, you  _ hung out  _ with the guy.”

 

Lance threw his hands in the air. “Yes, I hung out with him! It’s not like Hell’s frozen over or anything.”

 

The bell dinged over the door as he pushed his way into the Planet, Hunk on his heels, nodding a greeting at the day employees as they looked up with relief and started untying their aprons.

 

A hand clamped around his elbow and he looked down to see Pidge, who had apparently been lying in wait in one of the booths. “I need details.”

 

“What the fuck is with the third degree?” Lance tried to scrape her off his arm, but she hung on like a barnacle. He gave up after a second. “Can a guy not just hang out with someone anymore?”

 

“No,” Pidge and Hunk said in unison.

 

“Not when it’s Keith,” Pidge added. “You’ve had it out for him ever since he walked through the door.”

 

Lance scowled as he tied his apron on, exchanging quick goodbyes with the other employees as they fled. No one wanted to spend more time in the Planet than strictly necessary. “So?”

 

_ “‘So?’”  _ Pidge echoed, finally releasing him so she could hop up onto the counter. “So this is a  _ big deal,  _ Lance.”

 

“She’s right,” Hunk agreed as he headed back into the kitchen. “It’s a pretty big deal, dude.”

 

Lance shook his head. “You guys are crazy. This is nothing.”

 

With a dramatic flourish-- that he was pretty sure she learned from him-- Pidge pulled her phone out of her pocket and read, “Four-forty-two P.M.: ‘Keith is here because he’s my friend.’”

 

“I was being blackmailed.”

 

“Into telling the truth. Are you saying this isn’t the truth, Lance?”

 

He squirmed in frustration. “You’re a monster, Pidge.”

 

“I know. Now, answer the question.”

 

_ “Yes,  _ okay?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Keith is my friend. Now would you shut up about it?”

 

A quiet cheer came from the kitchen.

 

“I don’t need it from you too,” Lance yelled at Hunk.

 

Pidge held her phone up. “Wait, let me get that on video.”

 

“I’m going to wring your skinny neck.”

 

Coran leaned out from his office. “Ah ah, no homicide around the food! Puts the flavor off.”

 

“Off  _ what?”  _ Pidge muttered. 

 

Frowning, Coran scolded her, “Shoes off the counter, number five.”

 

She complied with a grumble.

 

Lance poked her as he walked by on his way to the jukebox. She responded with a loud raspberry. He had to duck to avoid the shower of spit. “That’s just unsanitary.”

 

A deep sigh came from Coran’s office.

 

The door swung open to let in Keith, fiddling with his Planet hat with a scowl. Lance brightened. “Keith! Take this trash out on your way out, would ya?” He jerked a thumb at Pidge.

 

Keith tucked his hat into his pocket with a deadpan expression. “Isn’t that your job?”

 

Lance shook his head sadly as he slipped a few quarters into the jukebox. “Now you’ve all done it.”

 

Pidge paled. “Oh, god, Keith, stop him.”

 

Keith, the traitor, lunged for him, but Lance slammed his finger down on the machine before he could drag him away, cackling.

 

The opening  _ “jitterbug” _ had Pidge sinking down to rest her forehead on the counter, groaning. “Please, Lance, anything but this.”

 

“Too late, Pidgeon,” he said gleefully.

 

Keith was frowning, a little crease forming between his brows. He still had a loose hold on Lance’s arm. “What is this?”

 

“‘Wake Me up Before You Go-go.’” Pidge said it like a terminal prognosis.

 

After a few more bars, Keith’s nose wrinkled. “It’s awful.”

 

“You’re damn right.” Lance winked at him, leaning a little farther into his space. Keith seemed to realize suddenly he still had a hold of him, letting go and stepping back hastily. Lance pointed a stern finger at him. “You’d better run, Kogane. I won’t forget that betrayal.”

 

“Apparently it was for good reason,” Keith pointed out, nodding at the jukebox.

 

Lance shrugged. “I get my revenge early.” He gave Keith a nudge with his shoulder and a smile as he headed back to the register.

 

“That’s not how it works,” Pidge said, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling dejectedly. “That just makes you into the instigator.”

 

Tossing his rag over his shoulder, Lance snorted. “We all know who the instigator is in this crew, gremlin, and it’s not me.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Pidge, Hunk and Keith all chorused. Pidge raised her hand to high-five Keith.

 

Lance gaped at him; Keith just shrugged. “I’m never making you cocoa again,” Lance declared.

 

That actually had a stricken expression crossing Keith’s face, Pidge hissing in sympathy.

 

Lance crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s right. Consider your choices.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith offered instantly.

 

Pidge snorted. “I can’t believe you have to buy friendship.”

 

Leaning over to flick her ankle, Lance said, “If I don’t pay them to stay, the losers like  _ you  _ chase them off.”

 

She flipped him off. He snorted, but ruffled her hair affectionately on his way by to wipe down the tables.

 

Hunk leaned out of the kitchen. “Does that mean I’m a loser too? Keith, I’ll have a load ready for you in five,” he added. Keith nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets.

 

“Or he pays you,” Pidge pointed out.

 

“Oh, he does,” Hunk said seriously as he vanished back into the kitchen.

 

Lance threw his hands up. “Why do I bother with any of you? Keith, take me with you.”

 

“You-- What?”

 

It was Lance’s turn to grab Keith’s arm, turning a pleading expression on him. “Take me away from our horrible friends.  _ Pleaaaaase.” _

 

Keith looked befuddled. “But-- you have to work.”

 

Lance released him with a pout. “Party pooper.”

 

“Nice try, Lancelot,” Pidge called from the counter.

 

Lance flipped her off. “Go directly to Hell, Pidgeon. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

 

Pidge cackled. “You suck at Monopoly.”

 

Lance shook his head, sighing, and directed a weary look at Keith. “See? It’s relentless.”

 

Keith was biting back a smile. “Sucks.”

 

“You have no idea, dude.”

 

“Pizzas!” Hunk called in the kitchen.

 

Keith gestured towards the door with a wry twist of his mouth. “Guess that’s my cue.”

 

Lance patted him on the arm as he passed. “Go. Bring the people their food.”

 

“If you can call it that,” Keith muttered as he vanished into the kitchen.

 

Lance barked a laugh at the same instant the phone started ringing. Still grinning, he answered and walked the customer through an order.

 

By the time he hung up with them, Keith had loaded up and was halfway to the door. “Drive safe,” Lance called after him.

 

Keith rolled his eyes as he pushed out the door. “I always do.”

 

Lance had just enough time to get out a, “Likely story,” before the door swung shut behind him. Grinning, he turned to check the garlic knots and squeaked as he found Pidge standing right behind him.

 

She squinted at him, adjusting her glasses. “You know, I honestly didn’t believe Hunk when he texted me this afternoon. I thought this was some giant practical joke you guys were playing on me.”

 

“When have we ever done that?” Lance protested.

 

“Do you really want to get me started on that, Lance?”

 

Deflating, he mumbled, “No.”

 

“I didn’t think so. Seriously, though--” she patted him on the shoulder-- “I’m proud of you.”

 

Lance eyed her suspiciously. “Since when are you supportive? And why do you and Hunk keep saying the same things? Are you talking behind my back?”

 

“Since you actually gained enough emotional maturity to get over yourself and make a friend. And what we discuss is none of your business.”

 

“I can’t believe this. You’re in cahoots.”

 

Hunk stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Only because we love you.”

 

“Aww,” Lance said, pressing a hand to his chest.

 

“Disgusting,” Pidge mumbled, pulling herself back onto the counter.

 

Lance flipped her off. “Look, guys, I appreciate the concern or whatever, but today really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

 

They sent identical looks of disbelief his way.

 

“It  _ wasn’t,”  _ he insisted. “Keith is fine, okay? But we’re not even  _ really  _ friends. We’re, like, friendly acquaintances. That’s it.”

 

Pidge sighed. “Well, I guess we can’t expect that much emotional growth from you in one day.”

 

Patting him on the shoulder, Hunk said, “You still did good, buddy,” in a way that was somehow both sincere and condescending before vanishing back into the kitchen.

 

Lance threw his hands up. “What did I do?” 

 

Pidge just shook her head as she opened her DS.

 

He leaned an elbow on the counter, propping his chin on his hand and pouting for a second before a thought occurred to him. Checking to make sure Coran was still in his office, Lance slid his phone out of his pocket.

 

_ >>Me: next time im definitely going with you _

 

_ >>Keith: Who is this  _

 

_ >>Me: who do you think dude cmon _

_ >>its lance _

 

_ >>Keith: Who? _

 

_ >>Me: CRUEL _

_ >>next time pidge is going all tech jargon on you im not rescuing you _

 

_ >>Keith: Oh, THAT Lance _

 

_ >>Me: yeah uh huh sure _

_ >>hey wait you better not be driving _

 

_ >>Keith: Of course I’m not. I just dropped off the first order _

 

_ >>Me: chill ok _

_ >>good luck with the rest _

 

_ >>Keith: Thanks, I guess _

 

Lance snorted at his phone.

 

“What?” Pidge asked from the counter, taking a sip from a soda she’d stolen out of the fridge.

 

“Nothing. Just Keith.”

 

She choked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's me again  
> I know you were there for it, BUT LOOK CAMILLE I FINISHED  
> Anyway, I'm awful and haven't gotten to comments on my last chapter and I know Camille warned you but also my life is a mess about eighty percent of the time. I will answer these ones, though.  
> That being said, I do adore everything you guys do for us. It's awesome. The true heroes.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

It was Wednesday night, five minutes to close--a much earlier close than usual given Thanksgiving--and everyone who populated the Planet was crammed into one booth together, having finished everything that needed to be done already. It had been a ridiculously slow night, many of the college students already home for the upcoming holiday.

 

They were just waiting on the clock.

 

For once, Keith wasn’t tired. It was early, his runs had been relatively painless, and the Planet was beginning to feel like a home away from home. Coming here didn’t immediately drain all of his energy anymore. 

 

He was also pressed up against Lance in the booth. That was probably the biggest reason he felt like he’d downed three RedBulls in less than an hour. Recently, sharing any space with Lance had left him like this, slightly unhinged and ready to climb a mountain.

 

And, for some inexplicable reason, he’d been sharing a whole lot of space with Lance. Ever since that day Lance had saved him from the rain, he’d been… nice. And touchy. Very touchy. Normally, Keith would mind--being touched was not his favorite thing--but it was Lance and Keith wasn’t even pretending he didn’t sometimes think about him,  _ them _ , while he was having trouble sleeping at night.

 

He’d tried for a couple of days, but the unfortunate thing about Lance being nice was that Keith genuinely liked spending time with him. Lately, in fact, he’d been constantly anticipating and hoping for moments when all of Lance’s attention was focused on him.

 

It was a problem. And very distracting.

 

Keith was also pretty sure Pidge had noticed. Which was unfortunate.

 

Lance nudged Keith’s shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. “What?” Keith asked.

 

Eyeing him, Lance said, “Do I really need to recount the entire conversation?”

 

“That’d be great.”

 

Across the table, Pidge rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to know if you guys wanted Matt and I to bring anything over tomorrow. For Thanksgiving? Which we’re coming to?”

 

“Oh, right. Uh… I don’t think so?”

 

“You’re so useless.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“So I don’t need to recount the entire conversation?” Lance asked.

 

“Please, god, no,” Pidge said.

 

“Where’d you go?” Lance said, nudging him again.

 

Reluctantly, Keith met his eyes and searched his brain for something he could say. There was no way in hell he was going to admit he was crushing on Lance, not to anyone.

 

Well, except Shiro. That ship had already sailed. He hadn’t really meant to say anything, but he’d panicked the second he’d gotten home from Lance’s, still wearing his sweatshirt, and unable to comprehend what had happened.

 

The sweatshirt smelled like Lance, even now. It was amazing, really, considering Keith had worn it to bed more than once.

 

“Dude,” Lance said.

 

“Oh, uh, nowhere.” Internally, Keith slapped himself. That was probably one of the worst responses that had been floating around in his brain. It wasn’t like Lance was just going to drop it. He wasn’t the drop it sort.

 

“Nowhere must be pretty freakin’ fascinating.” 

 

“Maybe it is.”

 

“Can you two not start?” Hunk asked. “We’ve gotta get on the road, Lance, which means we don’t have time for an hour long bickering session.”

 

“We can still fit in three minutes,” Lance said cheerfully. He slung an arm around Keith’s shoulder, which was actually infinitely more comfortable than their previous position, arms fighting for the sliver of space between them. Keith tried not to lean into the touch. “Three minutes is better than zero. Right, Mullet?”

 

“You’re exhausting.”

 

“You like it,” Lance replied, winking.

 

Great. More winking. That was going to help Keith’s sanity. It was hard enough having a crush he didn’t want, but whenever Lance winked, Keith had trouble breathing. He didn’t know much about flirting, but he knew it felt like he was being flirted with. 

 

It was so confusing. Lance hadn’t gotten less so, despite how much more Keith knew about him now.

 

Needing to distract himself immediately, Keith said, “Do you guys straight shot it?”

 

“The drive?” Hunk asked.

 

Keith nodded.

 

“Yeah, usually.” Nodding to Coran, Hunk said, “Is he still out?”

 

Lance leaned over, removing his arm from Keith’s shoulder, and peered into his face. “Yep. Think he had a wild night yesterday or something?”

 

“It’s Coran,” Pidge said. “I’m pretty sure his definition of wild night is getting drunk on champagne and doing those crossword puzzles.”

 

Shrugging, Lance said, “Well, he did something.”

 

Glancing up at the clock, Hunk cheered. “We’re free. Someone wake up Coran.”

 

“Nose goes,” Lance said hurriedly.

 

Everyone, much more used to Lance’s antics, was prepared, leaving Keith without a finger to his nose, hand only halfway there. Sighing, he slid out of the booth to let Lance leave and then crawled back in on his knees, putting a hand on Coran’s shoulder and shaking lightly. When that didn’t wake him, Keith rolled his eyes and clapped loudly inches away from his face.

 

Coran jumped awake, letting out a startled shout. It scared Keith and he flinched badly, putting a hand to his heart. Behind him, Lance burst into laughter. 

 

Keith got out of the booth and glared at Lance.

 

“I’m sorry, man,” Lance laughed. “At least you didn’t get slapped. Sometimes that happens. Shit, didn’t he try and tackle you once, Hunk?”

 

“Yeah. Thank god I can’t be tackled.”

 

“God, I want so badly to prove you wrong.”

 

“I know, buddy,” Hunk said, patting Lance gently on the shoulder. “But that would be a bad idea.”

 

From the booth, Coran said, “It’s awfully empty in here.”

 

“That would be because we’re closed,” Pidge said.

 

“Ah. Well, good work, comrades. It looks positively sparkly in here.” 

 

“Thank you,” Lance said, bowing.

 

For once, nobody complained. It had all been Lance. He’d broken out the bleach and gone to town. 

 

They all filed out of the Planet and split off to head to their cars, Pidge hanging with Keith. He was dropping her off at home since the arcade bar wasn’t closing early tonight and Matt wasn’t around to give her a ride.

 

Keith was unlocking the car doors when Lance jogged up. Pidge glanced between the two of them, rolled her eyes, and got into the car, clearly thinking that Lance wasn’t here for her, which was… nope, Keith was not going to decode that.

 

“What’s up?” he asked, turning to face Lance. It was raining lightly and Keith squinted to keep the rain from getting into his eyes. 

 

Halting a few feet from Keith, Lance said, “Not much, man. Just a quick goodbye back there and I wanted to tell you to have a happy Thanksgiving, since, you know, you haven’t been around for one before.” Stepping closer, he continued to talk, looking distinctly more uncomfortable. “My family’s super big on saying what we’re thankful for this time of year and I, uh… well, I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know I consider you a friend and that didn’t feel right. So this is me… telling you.”

 

“Are you saying you’re thankful for me?” Keith asked, smirking.

 

“I regret it already.”

 

Laughing, silently telling himself to stop laughing because it hadn’t been that funny, Keith crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the wet pavement, only glancing up when Lance shifted his weight to his left foot.

 

Smiling, Lance jerked his thumb behind his shoulder. “Well, I gotta go, but I’ll see ya later, Mullet.”

 

“Yeah, see you. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

 

Nodding, Lance jogged off and Keith got into his car, smiling out the windshield as he started his car. He’d managed to forget Pidge was sitting in the passenger seat and when she said, “Alright, spill,” he tensed, heart racing.

 

“Jesus,” he mumbled.

 

“That’s not spilling.”

 

“Spill what?”

 

“Why you’re smiling like such a dumbass. Okay, no, I know it’s because of Lance, but I want you to expand upon that.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith pulled out of the spot, checking his mirrors for cars. “He was being nice, alright? In case you haven’t noticed, that doesn’t happen all that often.”

 

Pidge stared at him for a long time and then nodded. “Whatever you say.”

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re being weirdly cryptic.”

 

“Strange,” Pidge said, propping her feet up on the dash.

 

Sighing, Keith decided to drop the topic, knowing he wouldn’t get any more out of her. Besides, he was pretty sure he already knew. It looked as though he wasn’t far off in his guess that Pidge knew how he felt about Lance. He’d never been skilled at hiding his emotions.

 

***

 

“Hey, Keith, can you find my phone? I need that recipe,” Shiro called from the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure it’s in my bedroom on my nightstand.”

 

Rising from the couch, Keith padded into Shiro’s bedroom and looked at it as little as possible. When he’d first arrived and Shiro had given him an unnecessary tour, Keith had taken it all in and it had been so absolutely and horrifyingly couple-y—Shiro had insisted Matt was hardly ever over for the night, but that didn’t mean Shiro wasn’t prepared for when he was—that Keith had refused to examine it ever again in his life.

 

The phone, as expected, was on the nightstand. Snatching it up, Keith went into the kitchen and slid it down the counter to Shiro, who caught it without trouble and immediately started to research whatever recipe he wanted. Sighing, Keith said, “You really don’t have to cook a turkey.”

 

“How many times do we need to argue about this?”

 

“You don’t know how to cook a turkey, we have nothing to carve it with, nothing to put it on, and you don’t even like turkey.”

 

“Yes, I heard the first dozen times.”

 

“Then why are you still cooking it?” Keith exclaimed.

 

“Because I want to give you a proper Thanksgiving. Besides,” Shiro said sheepishly, “Matt loves turkey.”

 

“God.”

 

“You say that, but I know that if Lance wanted you to make him turkey, you’d try your damnedest.”

 

“Why the hell would Lance want me to cook him a turkey?”

 

Shiro stared at him with raised eyebrows. Not knowing what else to say, Keith crossed his arms and said, “Would not.”

 

Sighing, Shiro clicked around on his phone and then a recording started to play, his own voice playing back to him. “Shiro, I think I have a crush on Lance and I still have his sweatshirt—and, god, it smells good, what the hell?—and I don’t know what the fuck to do. Do I quit my job? Do I find the nearest cliff and jump off it? What do I  _ do _ ?”

 

Groaning, Keith said, “When are you going to stop using that as evidence?”

 

Smiling slyly, Shiro said, “Never.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Isn’t it great to be with family during the holidays?”

 

Sneering, Keith fled back to the living room and frowned at the TV, feeling distinctly put out. It was going to be a long day if that was what he was going to have to put up with. Finding his phone in between couch cushions, Keith flipped it between his hands and thought about texting Lance. The problem was, he had nothing interesting to say and he didn’t actually know if he was allowed to disturb him on a holiday like this, not when he was only seeing his family for a few days.

 

Tossing his phone down to the end of the couch, Keith slumped sideways, into the armrest. Texting Lance was an awful idea. 

 

And, yet, here he was, still brainstorming something to say. As he come up with terrible idea after terrible idea, he began to understand why authority figures through his entire life had urged him to develop social skills. Those would’ve been great right about now.

 

Thankfully, Shiro saved him. “Keith, come help me. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

 

“You think I do?” Keith called back.

 

“There’s no harm in a second brain.”

 

It was going to be a  _ really _ long day.

 

***

 

After the turkey debacle, there was the stuffing debacle, and the what-kind-of-potatoes-should-they-make debacle, and by the end, it was nearing four in the afternoon and Keith had decided he was never again, in his entire life, going to have a “proper” Thanksgiving. He was exhausted, his clothes were covered in crumbs, and he was about eighty percent sure he didn’t want to eat what they were making.

 

Pidge and Matt were due to arrive at five, so Keith decided to use that hour to relax. Shiro could obsess and micromanage without him.

 

His phone was where he left it and when he checked it, more out of habit than anything else, he saw that Lance had texted him. Face splitting into an unconscious grin, Keith opened his face to a picture of a turkey that had just come from the oven, a warm brown, some sort of spice rub decorating the skin. It looked delicious. 

 

Wandering into the kitchen, Keith snapped a picture of the mashed potatoes, which Shiro was still frowning at, glancing between it and his phone. “Still doesn’t look like the picture?” Keith asked.

 

“There aren’t chunks in the photo. Do you think we didn’t cook them long enough?”

 

Keith shrugged.

 

Shiro nodded and put his hands on his hips, stretching his apron tight. “I can make this work,” he mumbled, turning to the fridge and digging around.

 

Leaving him to it, Keith sent the picture to Lance.

 

_ >>Lance: you made that didnt you _

 

_ >>Me: And I already regret talking to you _

 

_ >>Lance: have you ever tried pretending to be nice??? _

 

_ >>Me: No _

 

_ >>Lance: tell pidge i love her cuz shes gonna die eating that _

_ >>is there even butter in there _

_ >>cuz you gotta have butter man _

 

_ >>Me: Probably not _

_ >>Shiro pulled the recipe from one of those health nut websites _

 

_ >>Lance: theres your first mistake _

 

_ >>Me: It’s not my mistake _

_ >>Why the hell are you even texting me? Don’t you have something better to do? _

 

_ >>Lance: nah not really _

_ >>mostly just waiting on everyone to arrive _

_ >>and I kinda already ate more potato balls than any person should _

_ >>but theyre so goddamn good _

 

_ >>Me: Potato balls? _

 

_ >>Lance: cuban thing _

_ >>youd like them. ill make them for you sometime _

_ >>i think i could do it _

 

_ >>Me: Okay _

 

_ >>Lance: ok? _

 

_ >>Me: That’d be cool _

 

_ >>Lance: that was almost nice mullet _

 

_ >>Me: Really? Didn’t notice _

 

_ >>Lance: no need to get sarcastic _

_ >>after all, youre the one whos perpetually grumpy _

 

_ >>Me: Maybe you’re perpetually irritating and I’m just reacting _

 

_ >>Lance: i get you all riled up, huh ;))) _

 

_ >>Me: Yeah, I have no idea how to respond to that _

 

_ >>Lance: no worries mullet. i have my guess _

 

_ >>Me: Great _

 

Throwing his phone down beside him, Keith resolutely ignored it. It buzzed a couple of times, but once it went completely silent it was less of a Herculean task to give it space. Whenever Lance flirted (flirted?) it completely threw Keith. 

 

A crush was one thing. Sitting around and wondering if that crush was maybe returned was an entirely different beast. There was pining without hope and then there was whatever Keith found himself doing sometimes and it made him understand why people said hope was a dangerous thing. It was certainly a disquieting thing.

 

And  _ that _ was on his list of things not to think about. Internally shaking his thoughts away, Keith let the images on the screen numb his brain.

 

Or, rather, he did for about five seconds before his phone started buzzing again. And this time, it didn’t stop. Groaning, Keith picked up his phone and saw a long series of texts from Lance. They were all emojis, the story, if there was one, completely incomprehensible.

 

_ >>Me: WHAT DO YOU WANT _

 

_ >>Lance: i knew you were ignoring me _

_ >>i so called it _

_ >>ask anyone in my family theyll tell you _

 

_ >>Me: I really need to ask this again…don’t you have something better to do? _

 

_ >>Lance: maybe i like talking to you _

_ >>no? yeah kinda sounded fake in my head too _

 

_ >>Me: Guess that means you can stop then _

 

_ >>Lance: shit keith cmon man _

_ >>talk to me _

 

_ >>Me: Why? _

 

_ >>Lance: i’m bored _

 

_ >>Me: It’s far from my job to entertain you _

 

_ >>Lance: but you could _

 

_ >>Me: Pidge and Matt are about to come over. Can’t _

 

_ >>Lance: not till five liar _

 

_ >>Me: You’re talking to Pidge, aren’t you _

 

_ >>Lance: no? _

 

_ >>Me: Bye _

 

Huffing out a laugh, imagining Lance’s face, Keith dragged his eyes away from his phone and up, directly into Shiro, who was standing in front of the TV, holding out a spoon. A clump of mashed potatoes sat on the end and Shiro said, “I think I’ve fixed it, but you have to tell me what you think.”

 

“Yeah, no.”

 

“How’s Lance?”

 

Grimacing, seeing that for exactly what it was, a threat, Keith snatched the spoon from Shiro’s hand and put it into his mouth. Swallowing, he said, “Well, besides the fact that half of it is glued to my teeth, it’s good.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“There’s probably a point where you stop messing with it.”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro sighed. “Want to set the table for me?”

 

Keith nodded. As he collected plates and napkins and silverware, he wondered how people did this every year. It was so much work for so little time. Why not just get takeout and lounge on couches? The whole point was family, right? Then, surely, all you needed was the people.

 

A part of Keith also couldn’t help feeling they weren’t quite a family today, anyway. Lance and Hunk were undeniably an important part of their group. Silently, wistfully, he wished they were here as he set the table for four.

 

***

 

Thirty minutes later, Matt and Pidge arrived. They were waiting on the turkey, which had another hour--that was Shiro’s best guess, anyway--so they split off, Matt in the kitchen with Shiro, busy trying to reassure and tease him about the food at the same time, and Pidge with Keith. She wanted to see his bedroom, so that was where they hung out, Keith lying on the edge of the bed and Pidge sitting cross legged in the middle of it.

 

“It’s kind of depressing in here,” Pidge said.

 

“It’s a room. How can a room be depressing?”

 

“There’s nothing on the walls. Your sheets are gray. And I’m...hang on.”

 

“What?” Keith asked, not even lifting his head to see.

 

“Is that Lance’s  _ sweatshirt _ ?”

 

Aiming for nonchalance, Keith said, “Yeah. He gave it to me after I got drenched that one time. I keep forgetting I have it.”

 

“Sure, Keith.”

 

Not gracing that with a response of any kind, Keith was busy floundering for a question, any question, that would distract Pidge from her fascination with Lance’s sweatshirt. Before he could come up with anything, though, Lance texted him again.

 

And this time it was a selfie of him and a slightly younger girl, mid-teens, her eyes just as blue as his. His sister, then. Almost definitely.

 

That was all the attention he paid her, though, because Lance was glowing. This, undeniably, was the happiest Keith had ever seen him, and that was saying something. His smile was wide and effortless and it looked as though he were on the edge of bursting into laughter, eyes trailing over to his sister. Letting out a breath, Keith tapped on the picture so it took up the full screen and allowed himself a few seconds of indulgence.  _ Allowed _ was probably the wrong word. He couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he’d tried.

 

“Whatcha looking at?” Pidge asked, sounding far too knowledgeable.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Might it be a picture of Lance and Lacie? ‘Cause I got one of those, too.”

 

“Go away.”

 

Scrambling across the short distance separating them, Pidge snatched his phone from his hand. Surprisingly, she didn’t look at it, clearly confident in her assumption. Instead, she stared him dead in the eye and said, “You like Lance.”

 

“Sure. Lance is fine.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she said, “You  _ like  _ Lance.”

 

Heart beating hard, Keith shrugged. That was the best he could do under her intense gaze. Besides, he didn’t really want to lie to her. A shrug was a nice compromise.

 

“The two of you are tragic,” she sighed, tapping away on her phone, most likely sending a response to Lance. For a brief and frantic second, Keith wondered whether she was telling Lance how he felt, but then he remembered that he trusted Pidge. She was the first person he’d befriended at the Planet and that had been for a reason.

 

His phone vibrated with another text.

 

_ >>Lance: nothing? seriously??? _

 

_ >>Me: Pidge said something. That’s gotta be enough for you _

 

_ >>Lance: nah she didnt _

_ >>she c l a i m s shes tired of my face _

_ >>(fake news no one could be tired of this) _

_ >>but you...you should definitely not be tired of my face already _

_ >>or my sisters cuz shes super adorable and i know youve never seen it _

 

_ >>Me: Couldn’t you have said all that in less texts? _

 

_ >>Lance: nope _

 

_ >>Me: What did Pidge say to you then? _

 

_ >>Lance: its a secret mullet _

 

_ >>Me: And I suppose I’m not privy? _

 

_ >>Lance: nope _

_ >>privy? _

 

_ >>Me: being included in the sharing of private or secret information _

 

_ >>Lance: thank you merriam-webster _

_ >>i was more asking why tf youre using a word like privy but whatever _

 

_ >>Me: Because it’s a word??? _

 

_ >>Lance: this is exhausting _

_ >>just tell me you like my face and we can be done _

 

_ >>Me: Like hell _

_ >>That’s like me asking you to tell me my mullet is attractive or something _

 

_ >>Lance: fuck you very much my face is not at all comparable to a mullet _

 

_ >>Me: Says you _

 

At this point, Keith was unable to keep himself from laughing, low and soft. This was easy. This was nice. Teasing Lance was a lot like arguing with him. It made Keith feel awake and engaged, but it didn’t hurt like arguing sometimes could. 

 

This was also why Keith was so goddamn fucked. There was a difference between finding someone attractive and actually enjoying their personality. Ever since the day of the rainstorm, Keith had realized he quite liked both.

 

Pidge made a little noise, pulling Keith from his bubble. When he glanced up, he saw her smiling knowingly and he scowled, immediately ceasing his laughter.

 

“You’re kind of adorable,” Pidge said. “Wish I’d known earlier.”

 

“I resent that.”

Pidge cackled, returning her attention to her phone. Keith did the same, because, of course, Lance wasn’t finished with him. 

 

_ >>Lance: i can’t believe this _

_ >>THIS _

_ >>in my own home _

_ >>on a holiday no less _

_ >>what did i ever do to you, keith?? huh??? _

_ >>nothing. _

_ >>(don’t listen to pidge on that) _

_ >>and i’m repaid with this INHUMANITY _

_ >>this CRUELTY _

_ >>wounded, keith. you’ve cut me to the quick _

_ >>(hey webster what’s quick?) _

 

_ >>Me: Uh… _

_ >>Yeah, I have nothing to say to this _

_ >>Other than cut to the quick is more a phrase than anything else _

_ >>And that I like the color of your sister’s eyes _

 

_ >>Lance: WE HAVE THE SAME COLOR EYES _

 

_ >>Me: Do you? Huh. Who knew? _

 

_ >>Lance: ANYONE WHO’S EVER LOOKED AT ME KEITH _

 

_ >>Me: Guess I like yours too, then _

 

Immediately, Keith cringed, tossing his phone to the end of his bed. There was no taking that back now, but he wanted to. God, did he want to. Fuck impulse. Fuck light teasing. Fuck selfies. Fuck…

 

“What did you do now?” Pidge asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“That sure looked like nothing.”

 

“Shut up,” Keith grumbled. 

 

When it buzzed, he groaned and put his head in his hands. There weren’t a whole lot of ways to interpret what he’d said, which meant the best solution was to pretend his phone didn’t exist for as long as possible.

 

“He’s not going to go away, you know.”

 

“He might if I ignore him long enough.”

 

“Great solution, Keith.”

 

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pidge said, “God, you’re just as dramatic as he is sometimes.” Crawling to the end of the bed, she picked up Keith’s phone and read through whatever texts Lance had sent. “I don’t know what you said,” she continued, “but these seem like pretty harmless responses.”

 

“How is that possible? I told him I liked the color of his eyes!”

 

For a beat, Pidge just stared at him. Then in a flat voice, she said, “Well, that’s gay.”

 

“Really? Are you sure?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pidge said, “That being said, he just thanked you for realizing the obvious and that you owe him an apology for taking so long to reach it. So it could be…” Pidge trailed off, her gaze turning thoughtful. Frowning slightly, she shook her head and flung Keith’s phone into his lap.

 

“What was that face?”

 

“My thinking face.”

 

“Nice and vague.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Sighing, Keith picked up his phone, read Lance’s texts, which were exactly as Pidge had described them and was in the middle of typing a response, something that would hopefully end the conversation before he said anything else stupid, when Shiro called them to dinner. Matt laughed uproariously in the background, presumably about Shiro’s use of the word dinner to describe what they were about to eat. Through the walls, Keith could hear his brother return the laughter and for a moment, just a moment, Keith understood why they were so unbearable. What they had was good. Enviably good.

 

Abandoning his phone--Lance would be just fine without him; he had an entire family after all--Keith stood, pulling Pidge with him, and dragged her out to the kitchen, where every available inch of counter was piled with food. Some of it didn’t look appetizing, but it all smelled  _ amazing _ , and that was good enough for Keith.

 

***

 

Leaning back in his chair, Matt groaned and patted his stomach. “You know what, babe, that was kind of incredible. Going in with the lowest possible expectations really works wonders.”

 

“For once, my brother isn’t wrong,” Pidge said, slurring slightly. There was an empty wineglass resting in her hand. Four times now, she’d absentmindedly brought it to her lips and proceeded to frown when she realized it was empty. It was hilarious. As Keith watched her do it again, he knew he would have to tell Lance about it. He’d love to know.

 

“I think that might be the wine talking,” Shiro said, smile kind, but slightly bemused.

 

“Yeah, who gave you so much wine?” Matt asked, on the verge of laughter.

 

“I did,” Pidge said. “In fact…”

 

“Nope, no more for you.” Shiro snatched the glass from her hand. “I’m already trying not to feel like a horrible person for letting you drink so much.”

 

“I’m alright with you feeling like a horrible person.”

 

At that, Keith burst into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. Lifting his hand, he held it out to her and waited patiently as she lined her hand up and slapped his, grinning triumphantly.

 

“You know,” she said, “I love you guys.”

 

“Oh boy,” Matt said.

 

“Shut up. I’m not saying that ‘cause--okay, maybe I am--but this has been a pretty awesome Thanksgiving. Like...I don’t know, you guys made this good.” Then she turned to Keith and slapped him hard on the arm, more than once. “You, too. I thought maybe I needed to clarify that.”

 

Looking down at the table, Keith felt his chest contract. He didn’t even know what to say. However drunk, it was clear that Pidge meant every word. 

 

In all honesty, Keith had absolutely no idea what to do with that information.

 

He was...touched.

 

Then, in just a few sentences, Pidge managed to break Keith out of his incapacitation. “You’re a lot...looser here,” she said. “I’m not saying be like this around Lance, but maybe be like this around Lance. Well, I guess you try. But,  _ more _ , Keith. More.”

 

Smiling, Shiro said, “Lance?”

 

“Yep. Keith totally likes him. Told him he liked the color of his eyes just a couple of hours ago.”

 

“Cool,” Keith mumbled. “I’m going to bed now.”

 

Shiro sighed. “You don’t have to…”

 

“You’re right,” Keith said, standing and beginning to clear the dishes. “I should clean up first. You did most of the cooking, after all. I’ll just do this and then disappear.”

 

Matt and Shiro exchanged a glance and then Matt yawned, extending his arms to the ceiling. Getting out of his chair, he helped Pidge from hers and then threw an arm around her shoulder. “I think it’s time we get going, Katie. Get you some water.”

 

“There’s water all sorts of places, Matt.”

 

“Yeah, but there’s nothing quite like the water at home.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Giving up, Matt said, “Let’s let Keith be miserable. Crushing hard is a lot of work.”

 

“Not sure that was helpful,” Shiro murmured.

 

Making sure the dishes he gathered clattered together, Keith took them to sink and dumped them in, turning on the tap, waiting for the water to get hot.

 

When his back had been turned, Pidge had managed to free herself from Matt’s grip. Nuding up against Keith, she said, “Guess I’m going. Sorry. It didn’t occur to me Shiro might not know.”

 

“Oh, he knows.”

 

“You’re not subtle,” Pidge said, nodding sagely.

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith said, giving her a small smile. “I’ll see you.”

 

She nodded and let Matt lead her out of the apartment. There were murmured goodbyes at the door and Keith listened, wondering why he always isolated himself like this. He didn’t have to be standing over here, washing dishes like a dumbass, and yet…

 

The front door closed and Shiro came up behind him. “I’ll do those,” he said.

 

Dropping the dish he was working on, Keith stepped away from the sink and leaned against the counter beside it, watching Shiro take over. “I do, you know,” he whispered. “Like him like that.” Then he closed his eyes. It felt a lot more real now that he’d said it out loud. Too real.

 

“I know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

Keith shrugged.

 

“Remember when you dropped out of college?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, hoping Shiro was going somewhere with that train of thought, because just remembering when he dropped out of college helped absolutely nothing.

 

“Do you? What it  _ felt _ like?”

 

“Shiro…”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Not really,” Keith said, because it was true. “It sucked, I know that.”

 

“I’m sure it did. The point is, Keith, time keeps marching forward. And whatever happens, that will always be true. You’re going to be fine.”

 

“I am fine.”

 

Laughing, Shiro flicked some water into his face. “Go to bed. I’ve got this.”

 

Smiling, Keith said, “Thanks.” Then he did as he was told, retreating to his room, and getting ready for bed. Once he was comfortable, under his comforter, he checked his phone out of habit and saw that there were more texts from Lance. Most were just pictures of food, but Keith smiled anyway.

 

Because no matter what he was feeling, seeing Lance’s name on his phone was a good thing. One of the best things.

 

Quickly, he tapped out a text.

 

_ >>Me: Pidge got drunk at dinner _

 

Lance’s reply was almost instantaneous. 

 

_ >>Lance: tell me everything immediately  _

 

So Keith did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again at krispy kreme
> 
> hey y'all! i missed you guys. what's up? how's it going? 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's commented and kudos'd so far! i know we keep saying it, but i cannot tell you how much we appreciate your support. you guys honestly drive this whole shebang <3 and if you want to follow us on tumblr, you can do that [here](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) for me and [there](https://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/) for kelly.
> 
> our holiday timing is just hilariously off now, but i hope you enjoy this christmas prelude during halloweekend. eat candy responsibly.

Hunk was waiting, an anxious wrinkle between his brows, when Lance finally heaved himself out of the car. “Listen, man, seriously, I can cover for you. We can call Allura or something.”

 

“‘Llura’s busy,” Lance reminded him, hunching his shoulders against the wind with a shiver. “And I’m fine, Hunk, really. Three more days and I can crash.”

 

“Dude, you don’t even look like you’re gonna make it three  _ hours.” _

 

“Watch me,” Lance said, sniffing loudly.

 

Hunk held the Planet door open for him. “I kinda feel like I have to.”

 

“You worry too much. I’m  _ fine.”  _

 

“Hey, losers,” Pidge greeted from the counter, glancing up from her laptop. She had some truly impressive shadows under her eyes.

 

“You look like shit,” Lance told her, barely even aware of the daytime employees shoving past them towards the door, shooting them dirty looks the whole way. Honestly, they were only five minutes late; they were just too sensitive.

 

“Dude,” Pidge said, raising an eyebrow at him, “if  _ I  _ look like shit, you look like an actual zombie. The fuck are you doing here?”

 

“Working. What’s it look like?” Lance fumbled with the strings on his apron for a long moment.

 

When he looked back up, Pidge’s vague amusement had faded into a frown. “Seriously, Lance, maybe you should just go home. We can call Allura--”

 

“Allura’s busy tonight, remember?” Lance interrupted, a little too sharp but too tired to honestly care. “She’s got that thing she says isn’t a date but definitely is.”

 

Pidge watched him for a second before shrugging. “Whatever. Go home anyways.”

 

“No.”

 

“Hey, being stubborn is my thing.”

 

Lance just grunted in response, leaning forward to prop his head in his hand.

 

“Trust me,” Hunk told her, “I’ve been trying to get him to rest for the last two days.”

 

Lance held up three fingers. “Three more days. I can make it.”

 

“Finals week is a shitty time to get sick.”

 

“Thank you, Pidge, I’m painfully aware.”

 

“Hey, asshole, I’m trying to sympathize here.”

 

Lance sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Really though, Lance, go home.”

 

“Nooo,” he groaned. “I refuse to give in to a stupid  _ virus.  _ It’s the lowest of all life forms and it’s not even alive.”

 

“Jesus, you’re already delirious?”

 

Flipping Pidge the bird, Lance dropped his head down to the counter. “Wake me up if there’s a customer.”

 

On cue, the bell over the door chimed. Lance groaned again and lifted his head, but it was just Keith, shoving his phone into his pocket as he walked in. “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. Shiro forgot his--” He stopped in his tracks as he saw Lance and Pidge. “Uh, what’s up with you guys?”

 

“Finals,” Pidge explained, shoving her glasses up into her hair to rub at her tired eyes. “And Lance has the plague.”

 

Lance pouted. “I do not. At worst, I have a cold.”

 

“At best, you also have a cold,” Pidge returned, deadpan.

 

“Ugh.” Lance lowered his head back to the counter. “Don’t remind me.”

 

“Go home,” Pidge said, in unison with Hunk in the kitchen.

 

“I refuse.”

 

“Isn’t working when you’re sick a health issue?” Keith pointed out. He was hovering in the middle of the store, like he wasn’t sure whether to take his usual place leaning up against the counter or keep a safe radius between himself and Lance. 

 

Lance shrugged, pressing his cheek against the cool metal counter. It felt nice. “Everyone does it anyways.”

 

“Ew,” Pidge commented as Keith frowned.

 

“What? It’s  _ true.” _

 

“Doesn’t mean I like thinking about it.”

 

“I know,” Lance said, turning to lay his upper body over the counter, staring up at the ceiling. “Why does anyone ever eat anything from food service? It’s disgusting.”

 

Pidge made a show of checking the watch she wasn’t wearing. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s officially been ten minutes and Lance has already reached delirium!”

 

“I am  _ not.” _

 

“Maybe you should go home,” Keith said, finally coming up to lean against the counter, peering into Lance’s eyes. “Get some sleep, or something.”

 

Lance groaned, scrubbing at him face. “I  _ can’t.  _ I have a final tomorrow afternoon that I need to study for.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Keith asked, “Have you not started yet?”

 

Lance dropped his hands to shoot him a glare. “Of course I have.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“Because I haven’t studied  _ enough.  _ There’s, like,  _ so  _ much material for this class and I don’t remember any of it, and my classmates are all  _ geniuses, _ I swear, so I’m gonna get totally screwed by the curve if I don’t--”

 

“You’re gonna get screwed if you don’t take care of yourself and are too sick to actually take the final,” Pidge pointed out.

 

“See, that’s why I can’t be sick.”

 

“That logic is so flawed I don’t even know where to start.”

 

Keith was still frowning. “I don’t understand. Are you doing bad in this class?”

 

_ “‘Bad,’”  _ Lance echoed. “That’s such an arbitrary concept. I could be doing better.”

 

“So, you are.”

 

“He’s not,” Pidge interjected. “He’s just like this.”

 

“A perfectionist?” Keith asked.

 

She made a so-so gesture. “Not exactly.”

 

“I don’t have to be perfect,” Lance said. “I just have to be good enough.”

 

Hunk leaned out of the kitchen. “Buddy, I know I’m sounding like a broken record here, but you’re  _ fine.” _

 

Lance flapped a hand at him. “That’s nice, big guy, but we both know that’s not true.”

 

Hunk opened his mouth, probably to argue, but a beeping in the kitchen pulled him away. “It is true,” he called over his shoulder. Pidge just shook her head.

 

Lance shot Keith a crooked grin. “I win this round.”

 

Keith just blinked down at him,  _ still _ frowning. 

 

“Lighten up, buttercup, geez.”

 

“Do you fail classes a lot?”

 

Lance shrugged, returning his gaze to the ceiling tiles. They were pretty gross, actually. He should clean them sometime. He should also google how to clean ceiling tiles. “Twice.”

 

“That’s  _ it?”  _

 

Pidge snorted. “See, this is what we’ve tried to tell him.”

 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Lance snapped, pushing himself upright.

 

Pidge shot him a glare from shadowed eyes. “Touchy, geez.”

 

Lance sighed again, short and sharp. “Sorry.”

 

“I know, dude, but you should seriously just go home. Study, sleep, whatever.”

 

“I can’t,” he mumbled, sinking back down to the counter to rest his head on his crossed arms.

 

“Why not?” Keith asked, looking down at him with a wrinkle between his brows.

 

Lance just shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

 

Thankfully, the phone rang before he could say anything else. By the time Lance was finished with that customer, Keith was loading up his first run of the night, and then there was a sudden rush as a group of frat boys wandered by, and by the time things slowed back down everyone had fallen back into the usual rhythm of the night shift, and Lance settled in to quietly nurse his aching head.

 

***

 

By the time midnight rolled around, Lance was sure his brain was melting out his ears.

 

“You look like you’re dying,” Hunk remarked, watching him from the kitchen doorway.

 

“Tell my mom I love her,” Lance groaned.

 

“What about Lacie?”

 

“She’s a tiny devil who steals my breakfast cereal and deserves  _ nothing.”  _

 

Hunk laughed. “So you’re looking forward to break, then?”

 

“... Maybe.”

 

“Mmhm. Listen, buddy, Keith should be back any minute. I can take my thirty and drive you home.”

 

Lance took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. “Nope, no, I’m good. I  _ am,”  _ he insisted at Hunk’s doubtful look. “What, our shift is--” he glanced at the clock--  _ “half over, _ geez, how is it only-- I mean, no, it’s already half over. I can make it.”

 

“Yeah, that just fills me with confidence,” Hunk muttered.

 

Over in one of the booths, Pidge let out a loud snore as she rolled over. She’d given up on her own studying half an hour before, opting for napping until Matt was done with his shift.

 

Hunk sighed as he watched her sleep. “You two, I swear. At least Pidge is done after her project is due tomorrow.”

 

Lance held his hand up. “You and me are the last holdouts, buddy.”

 

“I’m not high-fiving for that.”

 

Lance tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. Hunk’s resistance only lasted another couple seconds before he sighed and gave in, slapping his hand. “Thanks, man.”

 

“You know I’d never leave you hanging.”

 

Blowing him a kiss, Lance said, “It’s one of the many things I love about you, bro.”

 

Hunk pressed a hand over his heart as he headed back into the kitchen. “Bro.”

 

Grinning, Lance let his eyes drift shut again. Another four hours. He could do this.

 

He dozed for a few minutes, lulled by the sounds of Hunk clattering in the kitchen, Pidge’s regular snoring, and the Eurythmics playing from the jukebox, until the door jingled open. He cracked his eyes open to see Keith walking in. “Hey, stranger.”

 

Returning his smile, Keith said, “Hey.” He came up to lean against the counter. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Lance shrugged. “Shitty, but I’ve felt worse. I’ll live. How’s the delivery game going?”

 

“Some dude answered the door and there was  _ definitely  _ porn playing in the background.” Keith glanced over at the sleeping gremlin. “Too bad Pidge is asleep.”

 

“She’d love that,” Lance agreed, letting his eyes drift shut again as a slow smile spread across his face. 

 

“You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

 

Cracking an eye open, Lance met Keith’s dark, steady gaze. “Hundred percent.”

 

Silently, Keith raised an eyebrow.

 

“Eighty-two,” Lance relented. “I’m  _ fine. _ You guys need to stop worrying.”

 

“I mean,” Keith crossed his arms, breaking eye contact in favor of resettling himself against the counter, “isn’t that what friends are for?”

 

With a snort, Lance said, “You guys are overdoing it. You’re friend-ing too hard, Keith.”

 

“No, I think it’s about right.”

 

“Yeah? Well… your  _ face  _ is about right.”

 

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

 

_ “You  _ don’t make sense.”

 

“You’re the one not making sense, Lance.”

 

“Slander.”

 

Keith sighed. “Sure I can’t convince you to just go home?”

 

“Yep.” Lance popped the p.

 

“Then will you at least take your thirty and lay down, or something?”

 

That… actually wasn’t a bad idea. Lance considered it for a second, eyeing Keith up and down, before sighing,  _ “Fine. _ But only to get you guys to stop pestering me.”

 

“Yes,” Keith said, dry as sand. “I’m sure that’s the only reason.”

 

Lance squinted at him as he untied his apron. “I’m not sure I like your insinuation.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “You probably don’t.”

 

Tossing his apron under the counter, Lance pointed at him. “You’re on thin ice, mister.”

 

“I’m terrified.”

 

Lance ignored his flat tone. “Hunk!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m taking my thirty. And a nap. Keith will cover for me,” he added, grinning, as Keith’s face turned to absolute panic. He  _ hated  _ answering phones.

 

“Coran said Keith isn’t allowed on the phones anymore,” Hunk reminded him, sticking his head out of the kitchen. “I’ve got it, though. Have a good nap.”

 

He disappeared again as Lance pouted and Keith grinned, triumphant. “You win this round, Kogane.”

 

“I usually win.”

 

“Yeah? Well… fuck you.”

 

“Classy.”

 

Lance flipped him off as he grabbed his hoodie and headed to the booth where Pidge was still asleep and snoring loudly. “Like a goddamn chainsaw,” he grumbled, wadding his jacket up into a pillow as he flopped down on the bench opposite her. His eyes were already starting to droop as he fumbled with his phone, setting an alarm; he knew neither Hunk nor Keith would wake him up when his break was over.

 

Tucking his phone under his jacket, he curled up on his side, letting the sounds of the Planet carry him off into sleep.

 

***

 

The nap was a  _ great  _ idea right until he had to wake up. His brain was not on board for that. Instead, Lance shot up in a bleary panic, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing until Pidge crawled across the booth, shoved him out of the way to grab his phone, and turned the alarm off for him. She didn’t say a word, only gave him a dark glare as she grabbed his jacket and went back to her bench, curling up underneath it like a blanket.

 

“Sorry,” Lance managed, finally. Ugh. His congestion had gotten worse; he sounded like he was talking through a tin cup, the noise of the Planet muffled and far-off, like he was underwater.

 

Still, duty called. He heaved himself up as the phone rang, coughing. “I got it.” Hunk called an acknowledgment from the kitchen his tired brain didn’t quite catch as his fingers closed around the receiver.

 

Thankfully, Lance was pretty good at running through his job on autopilot, and time faded into a hazy blur of answering phones and taking orders. He actually might have fallen asleep standing up at one point, he still wasn’t sure. Either way, he was out of it enough that it took him a few blinks to realize the new customer standing in front of his counter was, in fact, Keith, frowning at him, a wrinkle between his brows.

 

“Keith! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” Lance said-- or at least, tried. He wasn’t sure how well it all came out. Feigning nonchalance, he leaned against the counter, swaying as the floor titled underneath him.

 

“You look like hell,” was Keith’s response, reaching for him. Lance sighed as his cool fingers pressed against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Lance, seriously, I think you need to go home.”

 

Lance leaned forward into his hand, only-half listening. “Mm hmm.”

 

“Matt and Shiro should be off in half an hour,” a new voice chimed in, and Lance cracked his eyes open to see Pidge standing next to Keith, peering up at him with huge amber eyes. 

 

He waved at her. “Hi, Pidgey!”

 

That, at least, brought a crooked smile to her worried face. “Hey, Lance.”

 

Wait. Worried? “No, wait,” he said, pushing himself upright, unfortunately away from Keith’s hand. “Waitwaitwait, you guys aren’t supposed to be worried about me. I’m  _ fine.”  _ His expansive gesture narrowly missed the warming case.

 

Keith and Pidge levelled equally unimpressed looks at him. “Right,” Pidge said.

 

Lance pointed at her, squinting against the glare of the lights. “You’re darn right, I’m right.”

 

“‘Darn?’” Keith echoed.

 

Lance realized he was sagging forwards again and drew himself back upright, fumbling for his rag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Turning, he ran straight into Hunk’s crossed arms.

 

Hunk, thankfully, had the grace of an impala and the reflexes of a panther, and he caught Lance by the shoulders before he could topple over. Lance ended up grabbing his elbows for stability, blinking up at him. “Hunk, my man, tell them I’m okay.”

 

Hunk patted him gently. “Sorry, buddy, I’m on their side on this one.”

 

“Nooo,” Lance whined, leaning forward to rest his head against Hunk’s shoulder. Hoo, he was pretty dizzy.

 

Rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder blades Hunk said, “I know, man, I know, but you gotta go home. Drink some tea. Get some sleep.”

 

With one final sigh, Lance relented. “Fine.”

 

Hunk smiled as he pulled away. “Good choice.”

 

Lance just nodded, frowning and pressing the heel of a palm into his eye. “I need the keys. You’ll be able to get a ride, right?”

 

“Uh, wait, you’re  _ driving?”  _ Hunk’s face dropped. “That’s-- I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

Lance threw his hands in the air. “Well then, how am I supposed to get home?”

 

“I’ll drive you,” Keith offered. Lance turned to see him standing right across the counter from them, dark eyes flicking over him. 

 

Lance frowned. “But you’re working too.”

 

Keith just shrugged. “I haven’t taken my thirty yet.”

 

“But that’s your  _ break.” _

 

“I’m aware.”

 

“But you should be doing--” Lance gestured vaguely-- “break things.”

 

“I’ll get right on that. Come on. It’s okay if I go now, right?” Keith directed the last question at Hunk, pausing as he moved towards the door.

 

“Yeah, yeah, totally. Thanks, man.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Grumbling, Lance fumbled with his apron strings.  _ “‘Thanks, man.’  _ Like I’m a sack of potatoes.”

 

“To be fair, I’ve always said you’re a sack of potatoes.”

 

Lance turned to scowl at Pidge. “Will people stop sneaking up on me?”

 

“We’re not, you’re just particularly oblivious tonight. Here.” Pidge pushed at him, turning him until she could reach the knot in his apron strings and pull it apart.

 

Lance sighed as he pulled it over his head, wobbling a little. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem.” She searched his face with her bright eyes. “You gonna be okay?”

 

Nodding, he dragged his hands over his face. Ugh, his skin felt clammy and gross. Stupid fever. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Sleep sounds pretty good,” he admitted.

 

Pidge quirked a little smile at him. “I feel you there.”

 

“Yeah, you should get some, too,” he said, glancing at the dark bags under her eyes. “Have you slept at all this week?”

 

She wiggled a hand. “Eh.”

 

He huffed a laugh. “We’re disasters.”

 

“I’ll say.”

 

Keith walked up, holding Lance’s coat out for him. “Ready?”

 

Pulling the jacket on and sinking into the warm, familiar fabric, Lance nodded. “Yeah. Bye, Pidgey,” he said, ruffling her hair on his way by.

 

He must have looked terrible, because she actually allowed it. “Feel better, dork.”

 

He blew her a kiss as he followed Keith out the door.

 

The frigid night air made him shiver, hunching down further into his jacket. It was just a couple more weeks until Christmas, and it  _ felt  _ like it, wind blowing cold against his face and hands and the back of his neck. Even though the walk to Keith’s car was relatively short, Lance’s teeth were chattering by the time he pulled the passenger door open and climbed in.

 

Keith started the engine and turned the heater up full blast. He must have just come back from delivering a load, because it only took a few seconds for warm air to pour out of the vents, and Lance held his shaking fingers up to them with a grateful hum.

 

“Seatbelt.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Lance said, but he buckled himself up before pressing his hands back to the heaters. 

 

Keith just snorted at that as he backed out of his parking spot. It occurred to Lance after a second that this was the first time he’d ever been in Keith’s car; he snuck a glance around, probably not too subtly. It was a pretty standard sedan, a little worn with age. There were some scuff marks on the dashboard like people rested their feet there a lot, the cupholders were crammed full of wrinkled old receipts, and there was a collection of random junk on the floor of the backseat-- a couple grocery bags, a frisbee, an umbrella, a water bottle. A book rested on the console between the front seat. Lance picked it up to peer at the title.

 

“That’s right, you like reading,” he remembered. 

 

Keith glanced over at him. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

 

“You were going to the bookstore that day in the rain,” Lance answered absently, turning the book over to skim through the summary on the back. The spine was so broken the whole thing was practically falling apart, and the corners were boxed. “Plus you were reading my textbook for fun. You must like this one. It looks old.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Keith answered after a second. 

 

Lance hummed. “I’ll have to read it sometime.” He tucked the book back into its spot safely, leaning back against the seat with a tired sigh. Christmas songs trickled through the radio, a little staticky, and Lance dreamily wished he could just stay in this little bubble forever, warm and sleepy and far, far away from work or finals. 

 

But he couldn’t, of course. This wasn’t even his car. He blinked his eyes open and looked over at Keith, watching the streetlights play over his face as he drove. After a few seconds, Keith glanced over at him, just a flash of dark eyes. “What?”

 

Lance shrugged. “Nothing. Thanks for taking me home, I guess.”

 

Huffing a laugh, Keith made a careful turn. “Yeah, well, you look like shit.”

 

“I feel like shit,” Lance admitted, looking back out the windshield. It was probably creepy to just stare at Keith the whole ride, but it was oddly mesmerizing. The yellow streetlights made him look both younger and older, far away and right there next to him. It was a weird, tenuous, almost nostalgic feeling; Lance hated to let it go, even though it brought a strange ache to his throat.

 

Or maybe that was just the virus. He sniffed loudly.

 

“What did you mean, earlier,” Keith started after a second, “when you were talking about your classes and how you haven’t studied enough? Pidge and Hunk seemed to think…” He trailed off.

 

Lance sighed, watching the world flash by them in streetlight-sepia as he considered his words. “I just… I don’t know. I really hate school, I guess. Or--” he spun a hand in the air, frustrated-- “not  _ school.  _ Like, I love learning. I love my major. It’s all cool stuff. I just hate tests and grades and all that stuff, because honestly, man,” he forced a laugh, “it makes me feel pretty shitty about myself. It’s just like, I  _ know  _ I’m kind of an idiot, I’ve made my peace with that, but it doesn’t feel good to have your nose shoved in it, you know?”

 

“You’re not an idiot,” Keith said after a second.

 

Huffing another humorless laugh, Lance turned away to look out the window again. “Thanks, man. That’s not true, but thanks.”

 

“It  _ is _ true.”

 

Lance just shrugged a shoulder. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had this conversation with Hunk and Pidge a thousand times already.

 

Keith mumbled something under his breath Lance didn’t quite catch, but he was too tired to pursue it. Instead, he just watched Keith drive for another second before leaning his temple against the cold glass. It was silent all the way back to his apartment, but even with the tense conversation, it didn’t feel awkward. It wasn’t the first time Lance had been caught by surprise by just how  _ easy  _ it was to be around Keith, but he was still trying to wrap his head around it. Two months ago, he barely knew the guy; now, Keith felt like such a natural presence in his life, practically as essential as Pidge or Hunk or Allura or Coran. 

 

The thought brought a slow smile to his face as Keith pulled up in front of the Castle.

 

“You gonna be okay getting up there?”

 

“I’ve got a  _ cold, _ dude, I’m not gonna fall down the stairs.” Despite his sharp words, Lance couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks again for the ride, Keith.”

 

Eyebrows raising, Keith quirked his own smile back. “Yeah, no problem. You sure you’re not dying?”

 

“I’m leaving now.”

 

Keith’s laughter followed him out of the car. Lance shivered at the cold air bit at him again, releasing a long, cloudy breath into the dark sky before he leaned back down to peer through the open door. “Hey, Keith?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I don’t hate your mullet.”

 

With that, Lance slammed the door and headed towards the stairs, grinning to himself.

 

***

 

Lance hummed along absently with the jukebox as he scribbled down a quick inventory of the Planet’s napkin and plastic utensil supply, stacked carefully under the counter by one of the day employees. Usually, he left inventory for the end of the week, but he and Hunk were leaving the next day for the holidays and he wanted to get it done before they went. It was tedious, but Lance didn’t mind it so much tonight; finals were over, his stupid cold was finally gone, and the holidays were here.

 

“Who is this?” Keith asked from his seat on the counter.

 

Lance wrote down the last number and tucked the clipboard back under the counter. “The Pretenders.”

 

“I didn’t even know we  _ had  _ Christmas music on the jukebox.”

 

Leaning against the counter next to him, Lance shot him a lazy grin.  _ “Holiday  _ music, Keith, let’s be non-denominational here.” He ducked out of the way of Keith’s gentle kick. “‘2000 Miles’ is a classic, dude.”

 

“You say that about every song on that damn thing.”

 

“And it’s always true.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, even though he was smiling, and shoved Lance away with a foot on his side. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Lance replied, “It’s part of my charm.”

 

Whatever Keith’s response was going to be was lost as Pidge shoved her way through the door, slamming her bag down on the counter. “Guess who passed her classes.”

 

Hunk leaned through the kitchen doorway to whoop in unison with him. Pidge returned Lance’s high five with a grin.

 

“That’s great, Pidge,” Keith said.

 

She nodded, blowing out a sigh that ruffled her peanut-butter bangs. “Yeah, it honestly is. That final project was killer.”

 

“But you did it,” Hunk pointed out, coming around the counter to scoop her up into a hug.

 

Her “I did” was a little strangled as she patted him on the back. Thankfully, he released her before Lance had to step in and save her from death by hug.

 

“Is that why you’re so late tonight? Checking your grades?” Lance asked, glancing at the clock. It was already half-past ten; Pidge usually showed up at eight, like the rest of them, when Matt started his shift.

 

Pidge rolled her eyes, hopping up on the counter. “No, Matt lost his keys again. Shiro had to pick him up while I tore the house apart looking for them.”

 

“Classic.”

 

“That’s my idiot brother.” Pidge’s fond smile softened her words. “Anyways, have you guys checked yours yet?”

 

Lance groaned sinking down to rest his forehead on his arms.

 

“I did,” Hunk volunteered. “Passed all mine, but I expected that. Lance hasn’t braved it yet.”

 

“I expected no less,” Pidge said gravely before her sharp little knee was nudging Lance in the ribs. “Come on, Lance. Better just get it over with.”

 

He looked up to see Pidge holding her tablet out to him. “Is this really necessary?”

 

Pidge ignored his pout. “If you don’t do it now, you’ll just stress about it all break until you check the night before classes start again and see you did fine, so just get it over with, man.”

 

“Cruel,” Lance grumbled, but he took the tablet from her anyways. This had become kind of a ritual for them over the last couple years.

 

Keith peered over his shoulder as he navigated to the university’s site. “How do you have WiFi here?”

 

“We steal it from the bar next door,” Lance explained as he typed in his password.

 

Pidge leaned forward so she could see the screen better. “Matt gave me the login info when he started working there.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Lance tapped on the transcripts link and immediately slammed his hands over his eyes. “I can’t look.”

 

Tiny, inhumanly strong fingers pulled at his wrists. “Come on, you diva.”

 

Lance peeked at the screen with a single eye, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the string of Bs. “I did it!”

 

“Like we all knew you would,” Pidge deadpanned, but she leaned over to give him an affectionate punch in the shoulder, not even complaining as he dragged her into a half-hug.

 

_ “I  _ didn’t, Pidgey, that’s the important part.”

 

“I’m not even going to grace that with a response.”

 

“Congrats, buddy,” Hunk said, giving him his own rib-crushing hug. Lance squeezed him back as best he could.

 

Keith’s dark eyes gleamed as he gave Lance a smile and a quiet, “Good job,” and Lance grinned back at him.

 

“Thanks, guys, thank you. Now can we all get back to work?”

 

“That  _ is _ what I hired you for,” Coran’s voice came from his office.

 

With a sheepish look, Hunk headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll have a load ready for you in three, Keith.”

 

Pidge wisely hopped off the counter and settled in one of the booths, tapping away at her tablet. Lance had no idea what she was doing, since classes were over. Planning world domination, probably. Hacking the Pentagon. Something.

 

Keith shifted a little, like he was going to follow her, but stilled as Lance leaned against the counter next to him. “So, Mullet,” Lance asked conversationally, “got any plans for the holidays?”

 

“Not really. Just hanging out with Shiro.”

 

“Ahh, those familial obligations. Reason for the season.”

 

Keith huffed a laugh. “I guess. You guys are leaving tomorrow, right?”

 

“Yep. First thing, if I can get him moving.” He nodded towards the kitchen.

 

“Is Hunk not a morning person?”

 

Lance wiggled a hand. “Eh, he’s okay. Mostly I just need him to kick my ass into action.”

 

That got a laugh, a real one, and Lance grinned back at him.

 

“Seriously, though, think you guys can survive without us for nine days?”

 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll be fine,” Keith said, still smiling.

 

Lance bumped his hip against Keith’s knee. “Just  _ pretty  _ sure?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Becoming more sure every moment, actually.”

 

“Cold, Mullet.” A second of comfortable silence passed before Lance added, “Actually, I’m kind of jealous of you guys. You get to grill Allura on her new  _ love interest.” _ He wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

 

“Ugh, stop that. You look like a villain from some silent movie.”

 

Lance threw his head back on a laugh before wiggling his fingers even more aggressively at him. “Careful, Keith, I’m here to steal all your sacks of money.”

 

“Phrasing,” Pidge called from across the room, and Lance flipped her off as Keith spluttered.

 

“At least I’ll get to wring it out of her at New Year’s,” Lance reflected as he settled back against the counter. “Oh, hey, right, has anyone told you about New Year’s yet?” At the shake of Keith’s head, Lance grinned, nudging him. “Well then let me  _ officially  _ extend you, Keith Kogane, an invitation to our annual New Year’s bash.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “‘Bash?’” 

 

“Well, not really so much of a bash,” Lance relented. “A gathering? A small party. Basically, it’s just us from the Planet, Matt and Shiro, and whoever anyone wants to bring. Personally, I’m hoping that list includes Allura’s new significant other,” he added.

 

“Yeah, because you’re a creep.”

 

Lance flipped Pidge off again. “Fuck  _ off,  _ gremlin. Go hack the Matrix or something.”

 

“Your taste in movies is almost as outdated as your music.”

 

Lance slapped a hand down on the counter. “That’s it! I’m giving your Christmas present to Keith instead.”

 

Pidge mimed zipping her lips.

 

“That’s right,” Lance muttered, crossing his arms as he stuck his nose in the air.

 

Keith shook his head with a smile. “Yeah, sounds fun. I’ll be there.”

 

“Awesome.” As Lance shot a grin at him, their eyes caught for a second before Keith cleared his throat and looked away.

 

“I should probably go check on the pizzas.”

 

Lance watched him slide off the counter before retrieving his rag. “Good call.”

 

Singing along quietly with “Last Christmas,” Lance made a round of the Planet, wiping down all the surfaces and ruffling Pidge’s hair on his way by. He got back up to the register just in time to answer a call, waving as Keith carried an armful of pizza boxes out the door.

 

He hung up the phone, humming again as he leaned into the kitchen to slap the new order on Hunk’s counter. Turning to go back to the register, he ran straight into Pidge.

 

She ignored his yelp, crossing her arms as he fought to keep his balance. “So.”

 

“Uh, so…?” Lance echoed, running through a list of all the things he could have possibly done in the last five minutes to incur Pidge’s wrath. He didn’t  _ think _ ruffling her hair counted.

 

“What’s going on with you and Keith?”

 

“Me and Keith?” Lance repeated again, bewildered.

 

“Yes, Lance, you and Keith. You know, our coworker and friend? Black hair, grumpy face, actually sort of a lovable dope? I thought you’d remember the mullet, at least.”

 

“All right, calm down, geez. What do you mean, me and Keith?” He pointed at her as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, is this about us being friends again? I  _ told  _ you, Pidge, I like Keith fine. I even told him that. What more do you want from me?”

 

Pidge rolled her eyes, hopping up onto the counter. “Oh, yeah, sure, you’re ‘friends.’” She traced air quotes around the word. 

 

“I’m missing something here,” Lance said after a beat. “Yeah, we’re friends. What else would we be?”

 

The smug smile slowly melted off Pidge’s face. “Wait. You’re not-- Are you not flirting with him?”

 

Lance gaped at her for a long second. “I’m  _ what--  _ You think-- I am not flirting with Keith!”

 

“You totally are, though!”

 

“I’m  _ not,  _ Pidge, I would know if I am!”

 

“What’s going on?” Hunk asked, leaning out the kitchen.

 

“Pidge thinks I’m flirting with Keith,” Lance explained, throwing a hand out like he was accusing her of murder.

 

Hunk’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, are you not?”

 

_ “Of course not,” _ Lance hissed, barely holding himself back from screeching it. “Why on God’s green Earth would I be flirting with Keith?  _ Why?” _

 

Hunk and Pidge exchanged looks. “Because you like him?” Hunk suggested.

 

“I don’t, though!” Lance pressed his hands against his eyes and took a deep breath. “Guys, listen,” he said, as calmly as he could, “I get that you’re happy Keith and I are getting along, but I’m not _ flirting _ with him and I do not  _ like _ him. Not like that.”

 

“Okay,” Hunk said after a second. “I’m pretty sure he’s flirting with you, though.”

 

Lance snorted, dropping his hands from his face. “No  _ way.  _ I don’t think flirting is in Keith’s nature. Besides, there’s no way he  _ likes  _ me.”

 

“Why not?” Pidge asked.

 

Lance waved a hand in the air as he turned, retrieving his rag and moving to wipe the tables down again. They were still perfectly clean, but he needed to do something with his hands. “Because he’s him and I’m me, Pidge. It just-- There’s no way, okay?”

 

Pidge muttered something that sounded a lot like  _ “how can you be so sure,”  _ but Lance ignored her, scrubbing hard at a sticky spot on one of the tables.

 

Hunk and Pidge meant well, he knew that, but they were nuts. Keith would  _ never  _ like someone like Lance, he was sure. Hell, it was a small miracle they were even such good friends; it’s not exactly like sparks flew when they first met. Lance look a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He and Keith were just friends, and as far as Lance was concerned, that was all they would ever be.

 

***

 

Lance eyed the clock as he dropped onto the bench opposite Keith. Ten minutes left before they could go. Pidge, Matt and Shiro had already came and went over an hour ago, giving him and Hunk warm hugs and holiday wishes before they left. After all, they still had work the next day. 

 

Speaking of, he crooked a smile at Keith, who was stifling a yawn. “Ready to go home?”

 

Keith nodded, rubbing his eye. “Mm, yeah. I think you guys are still more used to this than I am.”

 

“You’ll get there,” Lance reassured him, straightening his spine and letting out a pleased noise at the series of cracks it gave. Keith glanced away, focused on something out the window Lance couldn’t see. His gaze slid back to Keith, black hair tousled from being stuffed under the dumb Planet cap all night, traces of shadows under his dark eyes. Lance kicked him gently under the table. “Hey, Mullet, you gonna text me while I’m gone?”

 

Keith looked over at him. “If you want.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Would I ask otherwise?” When Keith just shrugged, Lance flicked a stray straw wrapper at him. “Seriously, though. I’m gonna miss all of you.”

 

“It’s only for nine days.”

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Lance settled back in the booth, looking over at the kitchen, where Hunk was just finishing cleaning up.

 

“Okay,” Keith said after a second.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I’ll text you,” Keith said, a little louder, fidgeting with the wrapper.

 

Lance grinned at him. “Good. I’d get bored without you.”

 

As Keith smiled back, Pidge’s words flashed through his mind, but Lance shoved them away. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility before, but he was certain-- everything between him and Keith was just friendship. Totally platonic. There was nothing more to it than that.

 

Hunk’s arrival at their table pulled him out of his reverie. “You guys ready to go?”

 

Lance slapped the table as he stood. “Born ready, Hunky Monkey. You ready to crash for a few hours and then hit the road? It’s gonna be Mariah Carey all the way there.”

 

Hunk sighed. “I guess I didn’t expect anything different.”

 

Lance patted him on his way by to grab his coat. “Love you too, buddy.”

 

Hunk held the door as Lance followed Keith out, shrugging into his jacket. He took a moment, as Hunk locked up, to lean back and look at the stars; they were bright that night, enough he didn’t even mind the cold.

 

Beside him, Hunk grunted as he wrestled the keys back into his pocket, and as Lance looked down to see if he was okay he caught sight of Keith with his own head tilted back, gazing at the stars. There was a strangely wistful expression on his face.

 

Lance didn’t have time to really reflect on it, though, because Hunk finally got the store key put away and his car keys out and said, “Okay, we’re all locked up.” As he spoke, Keith looked back down. “Keith, buddy, have a good Christmas. We’ll miss you.” With that, Hunk stepped forward and swept Keith up into a hug; Lance snickered at the dumbfounded look on his face as his hands cautiously came up to pat Hunk on the back.

 

After a second, Hunk let him go, and Keith tucked his hands into his pockets, ducking his head a little. “Thanks, Hunk. I’ll miss you guys too.”

 

Lance wiped a fake tear from his eye. “I’m touched, Mullet.”

 

“Shut up, Lance.”

 

“You shut up,” Lance sniped as he stepped forward and held his arms out. Keith just eyed him warily, so Lance shook his arms impatiently. “Come on, Keith, I’m not gonna bite. Give me a hug.”

 

“Fine,” Keith muttered after a second, stepping forward. He was a little hesitant as his arms circled Lance, but Lance gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away and it wasn’t  _ too  _ awkward, so a win all around, really.

 

Lance grinned at him as he stepped back, following Hunk towards the van. “See ya, Mullet. Merry Christmas.”

 

Keith’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “What happened to non-denominational?”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes, pointing at him. “Curb the sass, dude, Santa is watching.” He grinned as Keith huffed a laugh. “Seriously, man, have a good week. I’ll see you when we get back.”

 

Smiling for real this time, Keith shoved his hands in his pockets again, taking his own steps backwards towards his car. “You too. Have a good trip.”

 

With one final wave, Lance jogged over to the van. Hunk already had it started; Lance could see him fiddling with the heating dials through the windshield. He paused with his fingers on the handle, taking a deep breath of cold air and looking up at the glittering stars again. 

 

“Come  _ on,  _ Lance,” Hunk said, voice muffled by the glass. “We gotta get up early.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Lance pulled the door open and hopped in. “Let’s go, buddy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone who celebrates it or gives a fuck. For those who don't, happy regular day. Hope it was nice.  
> I was told that I should not only apologize for this but also tell you that not a single thing is Camille's fault. She is entirely innocent. Anyway, this is my apology.
> 
> As always, I just wanna tell all of you that you're amazing and wonderful and you make the both of us so happy. We really love writing this and sharing it.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_ >>Lance: hey tell me something i dont know about you _

 

_ >>Me: It’s one in the morning _

 

_ >>Lance: its not like youre not up _

 

_ >>Me: Yeah, I’m pretty sure the argument it’s one in the morning still works _

 

_ >>Lance: cmon mullet just tell me a secret _

_ >>its not that hard _

_ >>here ill tell you one _

_ >>i had a childhood crush on bobby flay _

 

_ >>Me: Who’s Bobby Flay? _

 

_ >>Lance: oh my GOD _

_ >>WHO ARE YOU _

_ >>WHAT HAS YOUR LIFE BEEN _

 

_ >>Me: Uhhh _

 

_ >>Lance: all you have to do is watch the food network for like five minutes _

 

_ >>Me: Well, that explains that _

 

_ >>Lance: WHAT DO YOU WATCH WHEN THERE’S NOTHING ON??? _

 

_ >>Me: I turn the tv off? And read? _

 

_ >>Lance: huh _

_ >>revolutionary _

_ >>ANYWAY secret mullet _

_ >>gimme _

 

_ >>Me: Why are you up? _

 

_ >>Lance: stop deflecting _

_ >>cuz im all wired. played a vicious game of pictionary _

 

_ >>Me: Did you win? _

 

_ >>Lance: did i win _

_ >>OF COURSE I DID _

_ >>im a true artiste keith ill have you know _

 

_ >>Me: Uh huh _

 

_ >>Lance: ill prove it to you _

_ >>hang on just lemme figure out this dumb drawing feature they put in _

 

Biting down on his lip, Keith set down on his phone and stared at the ceiling as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of his room. He’d had a quiet day, spent mostly alone, walking in the crisp air, breathing in what could only inexplicably be defined as Christmas. There had been crowds of people out, arms laden with bags, sipping on coffees smelling vaguely of peppermint. It was the kind of thing Keith liked to be around but not participate in.

 

What that really meant was that Keith’s day had been comfortable, quiet, and extremely uneventful. Lance texting him, undeniably, was the most thrilling part of his day. That much was hard to deny. Sure, he was in bed, halfway between wakefulness and sleep, but his stomach was jittery and every time his phone buzzed, his heart raced just a little faster.

 

Since Lance had left, they hadn’t talked much. Keith never texted first. Part of that was his inability to come up with something interesting to say and the other part was a concern he would come off as clingy or something.

 

There had been a few conversations about the Planet, how everyone was holding up without him and Hunk, but that had been it.

 

Until now. At one in the morning. Somehow, it felt important.

 

When his phone buzzed again, he looked down to see a drawing of a sunset over the ocean. It was abysmal, as only a drawing done with a finger on a phone could be, and Keith laughed to himself as he ran through a variety of responses.

 

_ >>Me: What exactly is that supposed to be? _

 

_ >>Lance: why of all people did i text you _

 

_ >>Me: I honestly have no idea _

 

_ >>Lance: you may think youve distracted me _

_ >>BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG _

 

Sighing, Keith set his phone on his stomach and tried to think of something. There were two problems, however. One, he was convinced he didn’t have any secrets. And two, that wasn’t quite true, because he had one, but he was, under no circumstances, ever going to tell Lance.

 

Probably.

 

There was a part of him, the part that had him telling Lance his eyes were pretty or flirting with him unconsciously and often, that wanted to admit the truth, that wanted to lay out each and every way he adored Lance. Sometimes, he felt like he was minutes away from losing his mind and other times he felt he would legitimately lose his mind once Lance knew.

 

Because he did keep toeing the line. And that, often, was done consciously. Sometimes, the opportunity presented itself and he would flirt because he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Sometimes, he would flirt because he wanted to see just how far he could go before Lance called him out on it. And sometimes, he would flirt because he was convinced Lance felt the same way.

 

Late at night, just like this, he would play with the idea of telling Lance, go through each scenario, some ending badly, some ending fantastically, and he wonder if it was worth the risk.

 

So far, it had not been.

 

It wasn’t tonight, either. There was something about the distance that made it impossible, which was strange to Keith. Normally, this was the kind of situation he would want to be as far removed from as possible. After all, when a bomb was loosed, it was better to be miles away once it hit.

 

_ >>Lance: jesus man it can be anything _

 

_ >>Me: I had an mcr phase? _

 

_ >>Lance: youre still in one _

_ >>try again _

 

_ >>Me: I never met my mom. I don’t think. Definitely don’t remember meeting her _

 

_ >>Lance: well shit _

_ >>why not? _

 

_ >>Me: She left _

 

_ >>Lance: is she still alive then? _

_ >>i kinda figured both your parents were dead _

_ >>sorry _

 

_ >>Me: I don’t know _

_ >>My dad is, though _

_ >>Dead, I mean _

 

_ >>Lance: that fucking sucks _

 

_ >>Me: I guess _

 

_ >>Lance: well buddy i gotta admit i did not see the conversation going here _

_ >>cuz you know we started at “i had a crush on bobby flay” level secrets _

 

_ >>Me: Yeah, sorry _

_ >>Social cues are not my strong suit _

 

_ >>Lance: its all good _

_ >>just you know… warn a man _

 

_ >>Me: I’ll remember that _

 

_ >>Lance: good good _

 

_ >>Me: Hey, Lance? _

 

_ >>Lance: sup _

 

_ >>Me: Why did you text me? _

 

_ >>Lance: kind of figured you might be up _

_ >>and i wanted to _

_ >>you havent been texting me like you promised :((( _

 

_ >>Me: Oh well I figured you’d be busy _

 

_ >>Lance: dude. _

 

_ >>Me: I guess I’ll text you then _

 

_ >>Lance: there ya go _

_ >>i should sleep. busy day tomorrow _

_ >>you doing anything? _

 

_ >>Me: not really _

 

_ >>Lance: dude its xmas eve _

_ >>promise me youll do something festive _

 

_ >>Me: Spiked eggnog good enough for you? _

 

_ >>Lance: YES _

 

_ >>Me: Okay then _

 

_ >>Lance: night Keith _

 

_ >>Me: Night, Lance _

 

Only five seconds later, Keith regretted not dragging that conversation out, knowing it had been possible, Lance more than happy to travel down tangents. Keith wasn’t sure he missed Lance, exactly. It hadn’t been all that long since they’d seen each other. But there was a voice in the back of his head, almost constant, that reminded him how much better anything and everything would be if Lance was here with him. Not quantifiably better, just intrinsically.

 

Groaning, Keith closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

 

Liking Lance was unbearable. And it was only going to get worse.

 

***

 

Three spiked eggnogs later, Keith mumbled, “Liking Lance is unbearable.”

 

He and Shiro were sitting on the couch together, a small fake tree set up in the corner of their apartment. All of the lights were off except the ones dotting their tree and that made it even easier, besides the tipsiness, to admit that to Shiro.

 

Laughing softly, Shiro said, “We’re talking about that, are we?  I thought that was a forbidden topic, to be honest.”

 

“Yeah, well someone put too much rum in these.”

 

“Someone didn’t have to drink three of them.”

 

Keith shrugged, finishing off what he had left of his third. “He sent me four selfies today. He’s gorgeous and I’m miserable. Three’s not enough.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“What?”

“I should get you drunk more often. You’re actually talking.”

 

“Ha ha,” Keith said, trailing his eyes to the tree. For most of the night, they’d been incapable of leaving it. There was something about twinkling little lights in darkness. Like stars, but closer. Tangible.

 

“You could tell him how you feel, you know.”

 

Snorting, Keith considered doing just that, laughing louder and longer once he did. “There’s no way in hell I’m doing that. That would be stupid. What’s the one quote from ‘A Very Potter Musical’? ‘Don’t tell a girl you like her. It makes you look like an idiot.’ That applies here. Except, you know, Lance is very definitively not a girl. Which is good. Because I don’t like girls.”

  
  


There was a long stretch of silence from Shiro’s side of the couch. Then, he said, “You weren’t planning on having more, were you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good.”

 

Smiling, Keith allowed himself to melt into the cushions, feeling lethargic and warm, well on his way to sleepy. And despite his frustrations with Lance, he was happy. The alcohol certainly helped, but he hadn’t spent this much time with Shiro, alone, in a long time. It was nice. They felt like brothers. For Keith, they hadn’t felt like that since he’d left for college. Maybe there were positive outcomes to his dropping out of college. There were no guarantees what he would’ve done if he’d graduated, after all, if he hadn’t been forced to live with Shiro out of necessity.

 

Now he was back to Lance. Already. Another positive from dropping out of college. Most of his thoughts ended in Lance.

 

It couldn’t be healthy.

 

“Should we have gotten a real tree?” Shiro asked. 

 

“Where the hell were you going to fit a real one?”

 

“I don’t know. We could’ve figured it out.”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith said. “Everything’s fine. You’ve done more for me than I deserve. Stop worrying about, well, whatever the hell you worry about. Giving me traditional family experiences or something. You’re the only family I’ve got, so whatever you do is gonna be good enough for me.”

 

“I kind of like the fake one,” Shiro whispered after a beat. “It’s small enough to be qualified as cute and it doesn’t make a mess.”

 

“And it’s got a dumb ass star on top.”

 

“Don’t like the sparkles?”

 

“It’s like a quarter of the size of the tree.”

 

“That seems like an exaggeration.”

 

“Says you,” Keith said. “Maybe I measured it. How do you know?”

 

“Because I know you and you wouldn’t go to the effort.”

 

“Would if it proved you wrong.”

 

“Well, sure. You would now.”

 

The both of them laughed and when it trailed off, neither of them talked, enjoying the tree the way it was meant to be enjoyed, in a sort of reverent silence.

 

It was a strange Christmas Eve. Keith supposed most people were with large groups of family, partying and exchanging presents and eating copious amounts of food. It had sounded like that was what Lance was going to do. God, Keith wanted to talk to him. Any of his friends, really. Then, however strange, this Christmas would be complete.

 

“Want your present now or tomorrow?” Shiro asked.

 

“You didn’t have to…”

 

“I did.”

 

Rising from the couch, Keith made his way to his room, running his hand along the wall when he found it just in case. At the end of his bed, he had a pile of presents, things he had bought unsure if he was supposed to or not. He hadn’t really had friends to buy presents for in years. Digging through them, he found what he’d got for Shiro and ambled back, flicking on a light on the way. The tree was nice, but if they were doing gifts, it would be nice to see them.

 

Shiro was in front of the tree, grabbing something from underneath it. They both settled back on the couch, facing each other, and handed over their presents. It wasn’t an organized event of any kind. They both opened theirs at the same time. Shiro laughed, grinning, and Keith stared at his, wondering when the last time was someone had given him this kind of present.

 

“How many lessons is this?” Shiro asked.

 

“Three.”

 

“I can’t believe you bought me three cooking lessons. Are you trying to tell me something?”

 

“No. It just seemed like you genuinely liked it and I thought you’d want to learn properly. Was I wrong?”

 

Softening, Shiro shook his head. “It’s perfect, actually.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Do you like yours?”

 

Glancing up, Keith saw that Shiro was actually anxious. His smile was nervous and Keith didn’t know how to explain to him, not when words were a difficult thing to grasp, that it didn’t matter what he had gotten Keith. It could’ve been a box of chocolates or an actual pile of coal, he still would’ve been thrilled. Shiro had  _ bought _ him something. He’d gone out, mind on Keith, and purchased a gift. 

 

Not to mention, this gift, while practical and not something he ever would’ve purchased for himself, was also perfect.

 

When he still hadn’t said anything, Shiro said, “You just like to go out on walks a lot and it rains all the time here and I know you don’t have a rain jacket because, well, I don’t know why you don’t, maybe you just really like hoodies, but I thought it was more likely you’d use it than an umbrella. I know it’s…”

 

“I love it,” Keith whispered.

 

“Oh. Thank god.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Keith said, “Thanks, Shiro.”

 

“Of course. And thank you. Love you, little brother.” Reaching across the distance between them, Shiro ruffled his hair, laughing when Keith tried to slap him away.

 

Staring down at his rain jacket, running his hands over the smooth fabric, Keith said, “I love you, too, you know.”

 

“Yep, I definitely need to get you drunk more often.”

 

Glaring at him, Keith said, “Turn the lights back off.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

 

“What was that, sir?”

 

“Matt is rubbing off on you.”

 

“That is what happens when you start dating someone,” Shiro said. “Well, when you spend a lot of time with someone, anyway.”

 

For the next hour, while they slipped through topics lazily, Keith considered that, wondering if Lance was rubbing off on him and whether he minded. Not that they were dating. Or spent all that much time together. Outside of work, anyway.

 

God, why was he like this? Surely he could have a thought that didn’t ultimately circle back to Lance.

 

Not long later, Shiro moved to turn off the Christmas tree, a sign that he was ready to go to bed. Keith, of course, though still definitely tipsy, was going to follow his lead for a lack of anything better to do out in the living room without another person present. Before he did, though, kneeling on the ground, hand hovering over the plug to the lights, Shiro said, “What are you going to do about Lance?”

 

“Do?”

 

“Well, if it’s unbearable, it’s probably a good idea to do something about it.”

 

“You clearly underestimate my capacity for suffering.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Shiro unplugged the lights. “Well, I tried,” he sighed. “Think about it though, okay? Whatever worst you’re imagining is almost definitely exaggerated. Plus, it’s a good life skill. Talking about emotions, tough topics, you know, that sort of thing.”

 

“Thanks for the advice, Dad.”

 

“If you don’t say anything, nothing will happen. And I promise you, if you talk,  _ something  _ will happen.”

 

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

 

“Good lord, how much drunker do you need to be?”

 

“It’d be good if I knew I wasn’t going to remember having the conversation in the morning,” Keith said, rising from the couch and heading for his room. Before he shut the door, he told Shiro good night and wished him a Merry Christmas.

 

The second he was in bed, he found his phone and opened up his chat with Lance. He could probably blame it on the alcohol, but in all likelihood, he would’ve done exactly this anyway.

 

There was nothing from Lance and Keith wondered if he was still with family.

 

Riding on impulse, Keith shot him a text.

 

_ >>Me: Hope you’re having a good Christmas. Mine isn’t quite right without you guys _

 

To his surprise, Lance texted back almost immediately. 

 

_ >>Lance: who is this _

 

_ >>Me: What? _

_ >>It’s me _

 

_ >>Lance: there were a lot of nice words in there mullet _

 

_ >>Me: Oh _

_ >>Well, I’m kind of drunk _

_ >>Maybe _

 

_ >>Lance: OH MY GOD _

_ >>ive been blessed by a drunk Keith _

_ >>quick tell me all your deepest and darkest secrets _

_ >>tell me what keeps you up at night _

_ >>tell me how great i am _

 

_ >>Me: No _

 

_ >>Lance: then youre not drunk enough _

_ >>what kind of drunk even are you _

_ >>im trying to imagine it and im coming up unfortunately blank _

_ >>its like trying to imagine you as a kid _

_ >>also impossible _

 

_ >>Me: Uhhh _

_ >>Talkative, I guess? _

_ >>Whatever impulse control I have kind of disappears? _

 

_ >>Lance: yeah ok i can see that _

_ >>suddenly you texting me makes sense _

 

_ >>Me: I would’ve managed it eventually _

 

_ >>Lance: sureeeeeeee _

 

_ >>Me: I would’ve _

_ >>I like talking to you _

_ >>A lot _

 

_ >>Lance: ive screenshotted that just so you know _

_ >>in case you ever decide to pretend that didnt just happen _

 

_ >>Me: That doesn’t surprise me _

_ >>How was your day? _

 

_ >>Lance: DUDE WTH _

_ >>YOURE LIKE A DIFFERENT PERSON _

 

_ >>Me: Uh…no? I’m me? _

 

_ >>Lance: YOURE TELLING ME THIS IS JUST WHAT YOURE LIKE???? _

_ >>dude maybe you should be like soft and caring when youre not drunk too _

_ >>it might actually change your life _

 

_ >>Me: I literally just asked how your day was _

 

_ >>Lance: I KNOW _

 

_ >>Me: Whatever _

 

_ >>Lance: huh alright _

_ >>i believe its you now _

_ >>shiro stealing your phone and pretending to be you was a possibility  _

 

_ >>Me: Jfc tell me how your goddamn day was _

 

_ >>Lance: good _

_ >>kind of long, lots of family, a couple arguments, a pretty typical holiday _

_ >>they all left pretty early though _

_ >>tomorrows the real party _

 

_ >>Me: What do you do tomorrow? _

 

_ >>Lance: presents, food, a movie, at least one person gets way too drunk, playing with the kids, building a train set _

 

_ >>Me: Building a train set? _

 

_ >>Lance: yeah _

_ >>gives the kids something to do _

_ >>Its pretty cool tho. Its electronic and makes little noises and theres towns and little people and we spend a whole lot of time running people over _

 

_ >>Me: You play with it by yourself, don’t you? _

 

_ >>Lance: nooooooooo _

 

_ >>Me: Uh huh _

 

_ >>Lance: youd love running people over _

 

_ >>Me: Probably _

 

_ >>Lance: what about you _

 

_ >>Me: It was just Shiro and me _

_ >>We didn’t do much, but it was nice. I don’t get to hang out with him like this very often so _

 

_ >>Lance: nice nice _

_ >>i gotta go help my mom clean _

_ >>but i’ll ttyl _

_ >>probably send you the best of the xmas memes at 2 in the morning _

 

_ >>Keith: Looking forward to it _

 

_ >>Lance: sure _

 

_ >>Keith: No. Really _

 

_ >>Lance: so fucking weird _

 

_ >>Keith: Bye, Lance _

 

It didn’t take long for Keith to get sleepy. He wasn’t doing much of anything and he was warm and happy and it was only too easy to give in, knowing the memes would still be there in the morning and that Lance would be, too.

 

***

 

Christmas morning bloomed cold and quiet, Keith underneath three blankets and entirely unwilling to move. He picked up his phone to check the time, scrolled through the memes Lance did, in fact, send, responded with a smiley face, and then tugged his blankets back up to his chin and closed his eyes. It wasn’t early, ten in the morning, but he had no reason to leave bed and honestly, it wasn’t a bad Christmas present to give himself. Besides, the murmured cadence of Shiro’s slipped its way underneath Keith’s door and Keith suspected he was talking to Matt on the phone. That wasn’t something he needed to overhear.

  
  
Awhile later, it started to rain, pattering against the window in his bedroom and Keith realized he was not only happy, but relaxed, no worries itching at the back of his brain.   
  
In all honesty, Christmases were never an exciting affair in his life, not like they were in Lance’s. Most of them were just any other day of the year. So it wasn’t a disappointment that this Christmas was shaping up to be the same.

  
  
Not that it was quite the same. Shiro, his family, was just outside the door. And it was tinged with a gentle, almost unnoticeable, throbbing in his chest that he assumed was the result of missing Pidge and Hunk and Lance. It wasn’t sad, though. Christmas had always been out of his reach because it was first and foremost a holiday about family and he hadn’t had one. The throbbing served as a reminder that he now did.

  
  
The smell of peppermint found its way into his room and Keith sat up curiously. There was a knock on the door and then Shiro poked his head in, smiling. When Keith smiled back, he completely entered, two mugs in hand. “Peppermint hot chocolate,” he said, giving one to Keith and then sitting down on the other side of Keith’s bed. Carefully, making sure not to spill, Shiro lifted up the covers and got his legs underneath.

  
  
“Moving in?” Keith asked dryly.

  
  
“You’re the only person I want to hang with today.”

  
  
“I’m the only person you can hang with today.”

  
  
Rolling his eyes, Shiro clinked their mugs together and then took a sip of his. Keith didn’t know what Shiro thought they were going to do in here. Most of their conversation topics had been worn out last night and there wasn’t a whole lot two brothers could do in a bed.

  
  
Two people on the other hand…

  
  
Nope, Keith was definitely not going to think about that. He didn’t even know how to imagine Lance, anyway. It would probably be terribly inaccurate and…

 

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro interrupted.

  
  
“Nothing,” Keith said hurriedly.

  
  
“You’re blushing, you know.”

  
  
“Whatever.”

  
  
Laughing, Shiro said, “I’m glad I got to see you fall in love. I already missed too much.”

  
  
“I’m not in love with him!”

  
  
Raising his hands in the air, Shiro said, “Okay.”

  
  
“Am I?”

  
  
“I wouldn’t know that.”

  
  
Groaning, Keith took two large gulps of his hot chocolate. “I wouldn’t either,” he mumbled.

  
  
“No, you would.”

  
  
“No way. I don’t have any idea what ‘in love’ means.”

  
  
“I don’t think anyone does,” Shiro said, face thoughtful. “But you’ll know.”

  
  
Nodding, wanting the conversation to be over, Keith sipped more of his drink, humming happily. There was exactly the right amount of peppermint extract in here. He told Shiro exactly that and was glad he did, because Shiro smiled, a hint of pride hidden in the corners of his mouth.

  
  
Feeling slightly unsure, as he sometimes did around Shiro when it got quiet—they weren’t that comfortable with each other yet—Keith absentmindedly picked at the stitching in his duvet cover. When he finally glanced up, Shiro had lifted one of Keith’s many books off the bedside table used solely for books and was reading it. A rush of fondness overtook Keith and he smiled, following Shiro’s lead.

  
  
They spent most of their day reading and chatting, usually about the books they were reading. When it got dark, they moved out to the living room and watched whatever Christmas movies were on, some that they’d already watched yesterday. Shiro made more peppermint hot chocolate and after they consumed all of the leftovers from yesterday, they scrounged for snacks.

  
  
They were halfway through their fourth movie when Keith’s phone started buzzing. Glancing down, he saw that Lance was calling him. 

  
  
“Oh god,” Keith said.

  
  
“What?” Shiro asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

  
  
“Lance is calling me.”

  
  
“Then you should probably pick up.”

  
  
“He doesn’t call. We don’t call. Why is he calling?”

  
  
“You’d have to pick up to figure out,” Shiro said reasonably, smirking.

  
  
“It’s almost eleven!”

  
  
“Jesus, Keith.” Reaching over, Shiro snatched Keith’s phone up and answered the call.  “Hey, Lance. Yeah, I know, but he’s in the middle of panicking. Uh huh. People don’t call him, you see. Yes, he does want to talk to you. I’m handing you over.” Holding the phone out, Shiro said, “Here. You’re welcome.”

  
  
“Hey,” Keith said, “Just a sec.”

  
  
“Can I still talk while we’re just-a-sec-ing?”

  
  
“Uh, yeah.”

  
  
“Cool,” Lance said. “Do you know what really gets old, really quick?  _ Babysitting. _ I forget every year that once eleven hits I just can’t do it anymore. You’d think they’d be tired, right? But no. No, Keith. They just get  _ worse.  _ They’re little balls of energy and I get it, I feel them, new toys are really exciting, playing is really exciting, but I’m only one man!”

  
  
Nodding, forgetting for a second that Lance wasn’t right beside him—it kind of felt like he was—Keith shut the door to his bedroom and crossed to the window, sitting on top of his desk, curling his legs up to his chest, and gazing up at the sky. There were clouds, but patches were clear and he could see a few stars. “That sucks?” he replied.

  
  
“Yeah, I don’t know why I expected anything better from you.”

  
  
“Sorry, I don’t talk on the phone.”

  
  
“Shiro mentioned. I can’t believe he had to pick up the phone for you. You were really just gonna let me ring out?”

  
  
“I was kind of paralyzed by indecision.”

  
  
“Indecision?  _ Indecision? _ It’s an utter joy talking to me, mullet. I can’t believe that you had to even think about wanting to talk to me,” Lance said.

  
  
Rolling his eyes, letting a little laugh escape, Keith said, “Why did you even call?”

  
  
“The babysitting, Keith. I couldn’t hack it anymore. I needed an escape.”

  
  
“Oh, right.” Keith hadn’t been considering that Lance missed him and wanted to hear his voice. Not at all. That would be ridiculous. Much too hopeful. “Well, I’m not very interesting, so it probably wasn’t a great idea to call me.”

  
  
“You’re doing fine.”

  
  
Leaning his chin on his knee, Keith smiled. He was rapidly reconsidering his stance on phone calls because hearing Lance’s voice was close to a goddamn religious experience. Exhaustion was prevalent in every syllable, but it was still distinctly  _ Lance _ , bright and smooth. It soothed the light throbbing in his chest. Feeling slightly unhinged, Keith cracked his window open, the cold air spilling in and rolling over his toes. “So,” he said, “how was playing with the train?”

 

“Fun. But, again, it gets old once you’ve run over your hundredth fake person. Actually, it would be great if we could talk about something else. Like, anything else. I would ask what you did with your day, but you’re definitely going to say ‘nothing’, so that seems like a waste of time.”

 

“Yeah, nothing,” Keith said, earning a snort of laughter.

 

“Get anything good?”

 

“A rain jacket. You?”

 

“I mean, money’s good and I got a whole lot of that.”

 

“Money is good.”

 

There was a stretch of silence that was terribly awkward, filled with audible breathing. Searching desperately for something to say, not wanting Lance to go, Keith finally blurted, “I miss you, you know. I mean…I miss everyone. Which includes you.”

 

Laughing warmly, Lance said, “Yeah, mullet, miss you too.”

 

Grinning, Keith ran his finger over his desk, tracing random patterns. “When do you come back?”

 

“Super late on the 28 th .”

 

“Soon.”

 

“Yeah, soon.”

 

“Good,” Keith mumbled.

 

“You okay?” Lance asked.

 

“Yeah, I just…” Keith trailed off. What had he been going to say there? Because there was only one truth that would explain why it mattered to him so much that he got see Lance and soon. And whatever Shiro suggested, he was not telling Lance about it now. Definitely not over the phone. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he finished.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Clearing his throat, Keith said, “I don’t hear any screaming kids in the background.”

 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t. I’m outside. As far away from the screaming as possible.”

 

“Backyard?”

 

Lance made a noise of assent.

 

“Describe it to me.”

 

“Dude, you are in such a weird mood. Did you drink again? Don’t get me wrong, it’s great. I kind of like you like this, but it’s super strange.”

 

“No, I’m not drunk.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“You were describing your backyard to me,” Keith said.

 

“I don’t think I actually…”

 

“Oh my god, Lance, just do it.”

 

There was a low huff, but then it got quiet between them. It wasn’t a charged silence, though, and Keith knew Lance was searching for words. “Well, there’s a pool and that’s about the only light source. A fence. Some really dead grass. There’s like always a drought here and pretty much no one cares except my dad, so we never water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the grass a color other than yellow. Uh, a little patio. Some dead plants. That’s about it.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Sitting on a chair on the patio.”

 

Keith could imagine it and it made him feel as though he were there, maybe beside Lance, maybe in the pool, hanging on the edge and staring up. Lance would look beautiful in the light from the pool, Keith just knew it. Returning his gaze to the sky, he whispered, “The stars out?”

 

There was a beat of silence, one that Keith couldn’t quite describe. But it was heavy with something. It felt like they were on the verge. Of what, Keith didn’t know. All he knew was that Lance felt it too. Well, probably. It was hard to make up a moment like this. Finally, Lance said, “Yeah,” his voice just as low. “The stars out up there?”

 

“Sort of,” Keith replied. “I can see some. They’re nice, aren’t they?”

 

“For sure.”

 

“Lance?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m glad you called.”

 

“Yeah, um, me too. Listen, are you sure you’re okay? Because this is probably the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with you. Like, I think I’m actually kind of worried.”

 

“Definitely okay.”

 

“Alright. I’m gonna believe you, but if you change your mind shoot me a text or something. Because I just lied and I totally don’t believe you.”

 

Laughing, Keith said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“See ya, Keith.”

 

“Bye, Lance. See you soon.”

 

“Uh, yeah, you will.”

 

“I know.”

 

“There is definitely something wrong with you. The Keith I know takes any and all opportunities to excuse himself from a conversation.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith hung up the phone without another word. Not willing to let go of his phone for some indiscernible reason, Keith clutched it tightly. Still smiling, he kept looking up at the stars.

 

He had no idea how long he sat there, how long he ignored Shiro and the night they’d been spending together, how long he spent thinking of nothing in particular, but wishing he was still on the phone with Lance. But by the time he got up and found his way back to the living room, only to see Shiro asleep on the couch, Keith knew. As always, Shiro had been right.

 

He was in love with Lance.

 

He just knew.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kelly's testimonial for this chapter: "dude i choked on my truffle"
> 
> okay first VERY IMPORTANT ORDER OF BUSINESS!! we got some absolutely incredible fanart for this fic by the incomparably talented lyghtbulb. [give it a look and some notes!](https://lyghtbulb.tumblr.com/post/167062006928/more-fanart-for-another-voltron-klance-fic-of) i'm still dying over it ngl
> 
> second: we say it every chapter, but it's never any less true-- thank you all so much for your kudos and comments. i was so excited to get this chapter out to y'all i started writing on my phone in a restaurant. kelly's working on the next one _as i speak_. type? whatever. the point is, that wouldn't happen without you, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you  <3
> 
> last, as always, [i'm here](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) and [kelly is here](http://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. 
> 
> hope you guys enjoy this offering of (very close to nearly) pure fluff

“Pidge,” Lance said, channeling Shiro at his most no-nonsense, “for the last time, there is no way Keith is in love with me. I'm still not convinced the guy _likes_ me.”

 

"Lance," Pidge said, eyes locked on the TV as her fingers flew across the controller, "for the last time, he totally is."

  
  
Lance threw his hands in the air. "Why are we even talking about this again?  Why did I ever let you into my home?"

  
  
"Because you missed me."

  
  
Damn. She had him there. "I regret every moment I wasted on that."

  
  
She snorted, a sharp grin flashing across her face. "Sure, Lance. For the record, feeling’s mutual."

  
  
"The missing, or the regret?"

  
  
"That's for me to know and you to never find out."

  
  
"I could probably guess which," Hunk cut in, grinning as he smashed Pidge’s character off the stage and at her subsequent squawk of outrage.

 

"I'll kill you in real life, Hunk."

  
  
"I am now withholding that guess."

  
  
Lance pouted. "Huuunk."

  
  
"Sorry, man, I'm not about to risk my life."

  
  
Pidge grinned wickedly. "Yeah, especially now that you have a date with Shay."

  
  
"It’s not a date!" Hunk insisted. "I just... thought she might like to come to our New Year’s thing."

  
  
"Yeah, as your _date."_

 

Hunk groaned as Pidge sent his character flying into the distance, the announcer calling the winner. “Lance is right, why _did_ we invite you over?”

 

“To bear witness to your trainwrecks of love lives. Although, to be fair, Hunk is definitely better off right now. By, like, parsecs.”

 

“That’s it.” Lance stood, dusting his jeans off. “I’m leaving. You happy now, gremlin? Less than twenty-four hours back in my own home and you’re driving me out.”

 

“Incredibly.”

 

“Where are you even going?” Hunk asked, looking up from selecting a new character.

 

“Just-- I don’t know, somewhere.”

 

“I know where he’s going,” Pidge said, sing-song.

 

“How can you when I don’t even know yet?” Lance narrowed a glare at her as he walked over to grab the keys off the counter. “And why are you in such a bratty mood tonight?”

 

Pidge pulled a wry face. “Comes from spending an entire week trapped with Shiro and Matt being extra gross.”

 

“Understandable.”

 

“To answer your first question, though, you’re gonna go hang out with Keith.”

 

Lance snapped his fingers. “Hey, that’s actually a pretty good-- why are you smiling like that?”

 

“Because you are _so_ in denial, dude.”

 

Snagging his jacket, Lance aimed an accusing finger at her. “See, this is why I’m leaving.”

 

Hunk looked over at him, leaving Pidge to pick the stage. “Have fun, buddy! Let me know if you stay over.”

 

Lance paused with his hand on the doorknob. Shooting a suspicious look over his shoulder at Hunk, he asked, “Why would I stay there?”

 

Hunk’s face was entirely too innocent as he said, “Oh, no reason. Just in case you, you know, do.”

 

“I hate you guys,” Lance muttered, yanking the door open.

 

“Be safe!” Pidge called, right before he slammed it shut.

 

In the relative privacy of the hallway, Lance groaned, dragging his hands slowly over his face. He’d lost count of how many times they’d all been over this in the last week, and he was honestly starting to get sick of it. Like, obviously he appreciated his friends looking out for him, whatever, but this was getting ridiculous. He’d already been over it, both with his friends and in his silent, dark bedroom in the early hours of the morning, and he was one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt sure-- whatever Keith felt about him, it was purely platonic.

 

At this point, Pidge and Hunk’s insistence to the contrary was getting kind of annoying. Lance just wanted to move on from this dumb idea, and Pidge kept treating it like a joke he was too stupid to get.

 

He blew out a long sigh, digging his phone out as he headed towards the stairs.

 

_ >>Me: hey mullet what are you up to tonight? _

 

Keith’s reply was surprisingly fast.

 

_ >>Keith: Not much. Just Netflix. What’s up? _

 

Lance grinned, replying with a single devil emoji as he clattered down the stairs.

 

***

 

The drive to Shiro and Keith’s building took five minutes, Lance spent another few finding their exact apartment, and he didn’t spend a single second thinking about what exactly he was doing until Keith opened the door.

 

They stared at each other for a long second before Lance said, “Uh, hey.”

 

Keith blinked. “Hi?”

 

“Cute hair,” Lance said without thinking. Keith had it pulled up into a small ponytail on the back of his neck and it was, weirdly, adorable.

 

Keith’s hand flew up to tug at the black strands. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Another beat passed before he asked, “Did you need something?”

 

“No,” Lance said immediately, then paused. “Well, yes. Kind of?”

 

“You just gave every possible answer to that question.”

 

Lance huffed a laugh, leaning against the doorway. “Shut up, man. Anyways, I was wondering if we could hang out. And by hang out, I mean ‘please, Keith, let me hide in your house from Pidge’s gremlin-y ways.’”

 

One dark eyebrow rose. “Less than a day back in town, and you’re already sick of Pidge?”

 

“Well, it’s _Pidge._ Also, thank you for not resenting my ulterior motives.”

 

“Hey, no one understands ulterior motives better than me,” Keith said, smiling faintly.

 

It was Lance’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Cryptic, Mullet.”

 

Keith just hummed in reply. “Why is Pidge at your place, anyways?”

 

“Well, _your_ brother is with _her_ brother and apparently, she’s had enough of that in the last week to last her a lifetime.”

 

“I can empathize with that,” Keith muttered, darkly.

 

Lance snorted a laugh. “I’m sure. Anyways, now you’re paying for your brother’s crimes against Pidge-kind by harboring me. As long as you don’t mind,” he added, searching Keith’s face.

 

With a shake of his head, Keith stepped aside. “No, that’s-- that’s fine. Sorry, you could have come in. I… just wasn’t expecting you.”

 

Lance grinned at him as he stepped through the door. “But I texted!”

 

The look Keith shot him was wildly unamused. “You texted me a devil face. What’s that even supposed to mean?”

 

“Exactly what I say.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, closing the door. “Now who’s being cryptic?”

 

“Listen, man, it’s not my fault you don’t understand common emoji vernacular.” Lance pointed down at his feet. “Shoes on or off?”

 

Keith shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter.”

 

Lance toed his shoes off. “Socks it is, then.”

 

Nodding, Keith glanced away. The movement set his short ponytail bouncing, and Lance couldn’t help himself; he reached up and tugged it, gently, a slow grin creeping across his face.

 

Keith swatted his hand away, covering it protectively. “Stop that.”

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Lance held his hands up. “It’s just weird to see a mullet actually look _nice_ for once.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Keith stalked off towards the couch. “Thank you for that backhanded compliment.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Lance replied, cheerfully, stepping into the tiny kitchen to dump his jacket on the back of a chair. He pulled his wallet and keys out of his pockets, too, taking the opportunity to glance around. It had been a while since he was in Shiro’s place-- the last time he was here was probably months ago, long before Keith moved in.

 

That was a weird thought. Lance might have been out of his mind with fever when it first occurred to him, but he still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that Keith had only been in their lives for a few short months. It had been the same feeling with Pidge three years ago; they just slotted into Lance’s life like they were always meant to be there, like there had been an empty space there for them he never noticed until they filled it.

 

“You okay?”

 

Keith’s voice snapped Lance out of his reverie. He blinked himself back into the present, realizing he was staring at a sink full of dirty dishes with a dopey smile on his face. “Yep! Yes, definitely, mmhm. Just spaced out for a second.”

 

Keith eyed him, but didn’t push it, instead asking, “Want anything? Food, drink…?”

 

“Nah, I’m good.” Lance watched as Keith pulled a glass out of the cupboard, filling it in the sink.

 

“Suit yourself.” There was a moment of silence as Keith took a drink. “Did you have a good time at home?”

 

Lance smiled again, soft and crooked, as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Yeah, I did. Even though babysitting was _hell--”_ he grinned as Keith laughed-- “it was good to see everyone. Especially my mom and Lacie. It’s _tiring,_ though,” he whined, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Why is my family so _big?”_

 

“Most people would consider that the opposite of a problem.”

 

Keith’s tone was light and teasing, but Lance still could have kicked himself. Genius fucking move, groaning about his family in front of the guy with the dead dad and missing mom. Like, talk about a tragic backstory, geez. He tried for a smile, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Quiet fell again, punctuated by the soft sound of Keith’s fingers tapping against his glass before Lance cleared his throat. “So, what were you doing before I darkened your doorstep, mullet?”

 

“I swear you aren’t from this decade.”

 

Lance grinned, reaching out for his ponytail again. Keith easily ducked out of the way, but it still pulled a laugh out of him as he said, “I’m not sharing my time machine.”

 

A smile tugged at Keith’s lips. “If you really want to know, I was watching _Planet Earth.”_

 

Lance brightened. “Ooh, I love that show!”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah, of course. What’s with the face?”

 

“What face?”

 

“The ‘I-don’t-believe-a-word-you’re-saying-Lance’ face.”

 

“That is not what my face looks like.”

 

“It sure looks like that to me.”

 

Keith nudged him as he pushed off the counter. “Stop putting your words on my face.” He headed back towards the living room, jerking his head a little at Lance as he went.

 

Lance stifled a yawn as he followed, glancing at the clock on the microwave. It was barely after eight, but he and Hunk had spent most of the previous day driving, and his sleeping schedule was all weird after being at home. Probably good they planned it so they would have this Tuesday night off to settle back in before work started again-- there was no _way_ he was making it til four. Hunk’s genius planning saves his hide once again.

 

The living room hadn’t changed much, either, just a couch and a TV and a chair and a little coffee table. A small, artificial Christmas tree stood in one corner. There were a few posters on the wall for bands and movies Lance didn’t know, some of Shiro’s weird artsy obscure stuff. The biggest change was probably the books scattered around, likely courtesy of Keith. Lance carefully moved one, left open and facedown on the end of the couch, to the coffee table as Keith dropped down on the other side, following suit once he’d cleared himself a space.

 

“So why was Pidge so unbearable tonight?” Keith asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

 

Lance skimmed over _that_ particular topic of conversation in his mind, and… yeah, no. “Just Pidge stuff, but worse. Like someone took Pidge and amplified her. Dialed the Pidge-ness up to twelve. You know.”

 

Keith laughed quietly and said, almost to himself, “I can’t believe _you_ got overwhelmed by someone else’s energy.”

 

“That is offensive, Keith, how dare you.”

 

“Yeah, I’m really not that sorry.”

 

Lance snorted, curling up against the cushions. This couch was comfy. “Usually Pidge is fine, but I’m really tired tonight, and she was getting under my skin...” He trailed off, waving a hand in the air. “You get it.”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

 

His mouth was already open to reply when Lance’s attention caught on something else. “Hey, is that my sweatshirt?”

 

Keith did his best deer-in-the-headlight impression. “Uhhh…”

 

“I totally forgot I loaned it to you. That was, what, a month ago?”

 

Keith ducked his head and tugged at the university logo stitched across the chest. “I… kept meaning to give it back to you--” he started, but Lance waved a hand.

 

“Nah, dude, don’t worry about it. Honestly, I didn’t even notice it was missing, so if you like it it’s yours.”

 

Keith gave him a look, part surprise and part something Lance couldn’t quite untangle. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem, Mullet. Merry Christmas,” he added with a grin. Keith’s own mouth twisted in a wry smile.

 

Silence rested between them for another minute before Keith spoke again, watching Lance stifle a yawn. “How come you’re so tired?”

 

“Ugh.” He pulled a face. “Travelling. Family. Weird sleeping schedule. There’s about a hundred reasons.”

 

“I thought you were used to a weird sleeping schedule.”

 

“Well, yeah, that’s why it’s so weird. It was, like, _normal._ People went to bed at night and got up in the morning. Who does that?” Lance’s last words were muffled as he buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples.

 

“Clearly, no one.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith, fighting a smile. “I’m going to choose to ignore that sarcasm.”

 

Keith was barely suppressing his own smile. “Smart choice.”

 

“Oh, you’re asking for it now, buddy.” Grabbing the pillow behind him, Lance launched himself across the couch, landing a solid hit square to Keith’s face.

 

He spat out a mouthful of pillow, spluttering over Lance’s laughter. “Lance, you ass!”

 

Lance fell back across the cushions, wheezing. “Your _face,_ oh my god, Keith.”

 

Scowling, even as his eyes sparkled with laughter, Keith held the pillow over his head and out of reach of Lance’s grasping fingers. “I knew there was a reason I shouldn’t have let you into my house.”

 

“Nooo, Keith, I need that back!”

 

“Nope.”

 

Giving him his best pout, Lance wheedled, “Why?”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment before announcing, “Inappropriate pillow use.”

 

That sent Lance into another fit of laughter. When he finally calmed down, he snorted, _“Inappropriate pillow use,_ Christ. Why didn’t you tell me you were funny, Mullet?”

 

Keith huffed a laugh through his nose, sinking back against his own pillow, still holding Lance’s captive. “I’m really not.”

 

Lance rolled his head to the side so he could peer down at him. “Yeah, you are.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

Poking him in the side with his foot, Lance said, “And I do.”

 

“Stop that.” Keith swatted his ankle.

 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Lance sang, poking him again.

 

Grabbing his foot this time, Keith pinned it down against his own legs. “Can we just watch _Planet Earth_ now? Please?”

 

“Aw fuck yeah. Love me some David Attenborough.”

 

“You are so weird,” Keith muttered, leaning forward to grab the remote. His hold on Lance’s ankle loosened a little, but Lance left it where it was. It was kinda nice. Especially with Keith’s warm hand resting on it.

 

God damn, he must be more tired than he thought. Now he was getting straight up goofy.

 

“So,” Keith said, clicking through the menu, “what episode do you want to watch?”

 

Lance hummed in thought. “Anything with the ocean.”

 

“‘Shallow Seas’ or ‘Ocean Deep?’”

 

With a snort, Lance said, “Dude, have you considered doing, like, yoga videos? Or ASMR? That’s some soothing shit right there.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Say ‘Shallow Seas’ again.”

 

Keith squeezed his foot warningly. “I will tickle you.”

 

“Well I’ll kick you in the face, so your move, asshole.”

 

“How about we avoid the violence entirely and you just pick?”

 

“The night’s young, Mullet,” Lance pointed out, stretching languorously. “Why not both?”

 

Keith selected one. As it faded in, he glanced down at Lance. “You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?”

 

“Me?” Lance asked, swallowing a yawn. “Nope.”

 

Keith cast him an amused look. “I’m giving it five minutes.”

 

He laughed as Lance flipped him off. “Screw you, I’ll make it. I love the ocean. Fishes and shit. It’s great.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sticking with five minutes.”

 

“You’re going down.”

 

“I really doubt that.” Keith handed Lance his pillow back as he said it anyways.

 

Gratefully, Lance grabbed it and shoved it under his head. “Don’t think this buys you points, Mullet.”

 

“Just be quiet and watch, okay?”

 

“Yes, mom,” Lance grumbled, but he rolled over so he could see the screen better, settling down against the cushions with a happy sigh. As David Attenborough introduced a pod of humpback whales, Lance narrowed his eyes at the screen, focusing. He’d show Keith.

 

***

 

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. “Nooo, Hunk,” he whined, curling into his pillow. “I _hate_ Genetics.”

 

A distinctly amused and incredibly not-Hunk voice answered him. “I win.”

 

Lance cracked an eye open. He was not, in fact, at home in his bed, Hunk coercing him out from under the covers before he missed his biology lecture. Instead, Keith was leaning over him with a crooked smile, the pieces of dark hair that escaped his ponytail falling down around his face. “Oh. Shit.”

 

Keith laughed at that, bright and warm, and it pulled a smile out of Lance. “You should do that more,” he mumbled, turning back into his pillows. “You have pretty eyes when you laugh.”

 

There was a noise like Keith had choked, but when Lance lifted his head, his expression was his usual neutral, a hint of amusement playing in his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

Lance dropped his head back onto his pillow. “Good.”

 

“Do you want to go home, man?”

 

With a groan, Lance pushed himself up, stifling a yawn. “No. I’m totally awake.”

 

“Very convincing.”

 

Lance swallowed another yawn to squint at him. “What did we say about the sarcasm, Mullet?”

 

Keith rose, heading into the kitchen. “I don’t remember. That was like, an hour ago.”

 

“Like a friggin’ goldfish,” Lance muttered, rubbing his tired face.

 

“I heard that. Some of us spent that time _learning,_ not snoring, okay?”

 

“Hey,” Lance started, standing up and wandering into the kitchen after him, “I do _not_ snore.”

 

Keith flashed him a look as he walked in. He was standing by the sink, filling a kettle from the tap. “Like a chainsaw, actually.”

 

That ponytail was proving too irresistible to _not_ tug every time he walked by. He snickered as Keith yelped and ducked, just a second too late. “Snitches get stitches, Ponytail. That secret dies with us.”

 

_“‘Ponytail?’”_

 

Lance shrugged, hopping up onto the counter. “Nickname changes with the hairstyle. I don’t make the rules, I just play the game.”

 

Shooting him a look, Keith set the kettle on its base and flicked the switch. “What game?”

 

“The game of _life,_ Keithy-boy. The ultimate game. Come on.”

 

“Yeah, you officially need to go to bed.”

 

Lance shook a defiant fist the air. “I’ll never go down!”

 

“Sure, until you collapse.”

 

“Shut up,” Lance grinned, nudging him.

 

Keith swayed with the movement, rolling his eyes. “You want some tea?”

 

“What kind is it?” Lance asked, wrinkling his nose.

 

Pulling the box out of a cupboard, Keith peered at it before shrugging. “I dunno, some herbal shit Shiro bought.”

 

“Have you realized that your brother is an actual Pinterest blogger?”

 

Keith looked pained. “Please, don’t remind me.”

 

Lance laughed. “Hey, that reminds _me,_ how’d he like his gift?”

 

“A lot, actually.” Keith crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter with a fond smile. “I was relieved, honestly. Usually I have no idea what to get him.”

 

“Mm, no kidding. What do you get the perfect man?”

 

With a wry smile, Keith said, “Don’t let Matt hear you say that.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Lance snorted, “because I’m scared that skinny nerd could take me.”

 

“I dunno, you’re pretty evenly matched.”

 

Lance gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “You dare doubt my combat skills, Ponytail?”

 

“Have you ever even fought anyone?”

 

Lance hesitated. “My older brother when I was little. Lacie, a couple times. Pidge bit me once.”

 

Keith arched an eyebrow. “Wow, impressive record right there.” He turned as the kettle clicked off, pulling a couple mugs out of the cabinet.

 

“Have you ever fought someone?” Lance asked, ignoring the gibe in favor of his curiosity, as he watched Keith pour hot water into the mugs and drop the bags in.

 

Keith shrugged, not looking at him. “Couple times.”

 

Lance’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

 

The kettle clacked against the counter as Keith set it down. “Being assholes.”

 

Lance waited, but he didn’t elaborate any further than that. “That’s it, huh? You know, rvery time I think I have you figured out, you get even more mysterious.”

 

Keith kept his eyes on their tea, stirring honey into the mugs, but a tiny smile pulled at his mouth. “Yeah?”

 

Lance nodded firmly. “Yup. You’re a confirmed enigma. The cryptid of our group.”

 

“You _have_ been spending too much time with Pidge.”

 

Lance spread his arms with a grin. “That’s why I’m here with you, Mullet!”

 

Even though Keith’s tone was mocking, he smiled as he said, “I’m honored.” He handed Lance a mug, fingers brushing against his just for a second before he was pulling back and glancing away. “Want to watch the next one?”

 

“Sure.” Lance carefully slid off the counter, cradling his drink. “Thanks for the tea.”

 

“Don’t thank me until you try it,” Keith warned.

 

“Right, I guess technically I should be thanking Shiro,” Lance said as they walked back to the living room. “The Pinterest princess.”

 

“Oh god, please call him that to his face.”

 

“Oh, I will, Ponytail. Don’t you doubt it.”

 

***

 

“Man, I love blue whales,” Lance sighed as the credits rolled.

 

Keith glanced over as he reached out to grab the remote. “Yeah?”

 

Lance nodded, uncurling from around his pillow. “I had this stuffed blue whale when I was little. It was my favorite. I took it with me, like, everywhere. Her name was Blue,” he remembered.

 

“Creative.”

 

Lance chucked his pillow at Keith, but he just calmly snagged it out of the air. Those reflexes were _so_ unfair. “Shut up, man, I was five.”

 

Keith didn’t reply beyond a quiet hum as he took Lance’s pillow prisoner, caging it in his arms.

 

Lance poked at him with a foot. “Didn’t you have any favorite toys as a kid?”

 

A thoughtful wrinkle frown crossed his face. “A plastic hippo toy.”

 

A startled laugh burst out of Lance. “Seriously?”

 

“I liked hippos.”

 

“Oh my god, dude, that’s adorable.”

 

“Hippos aren’t adorable, Lance, they’re the deadliest creatures on Earth.”

 

“Ah, there’s the Keith I know.”

 

The sound of a key in the lock interrupted them. A moment later, the front door swung open, and Shiro stepped inside. “Hey, Keith, I’m-- oh, hey, Lance.” He blinked, startled, his gaze sliding to Keith for a second.

 

Lance waved. “Hi, Shiro. How’s Matt?”

 

“Good, thanks.”

 

Waggling his eyebrows, Lance said, “Better now, am I right?”

 

Keith groaned behind him as Shiro sighed shortly. “Why are you in my house?”

 

“Well, thanks to _you_ kicking Pidge out of her house, I had to escape somewhere. It’s like a complicated game of musical chairs, except with more driving and less music.”

 

“And no one got left out,” Keith said, deadpan. “So not actually like musical chairs at all.”

 

Lance narrowed a glare at him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ponytail.”

 

Shiro sank into the armchair next to the couch. “What are you guys watching?”

 

_“Planet Earth.”_

 

“We just finished, though,” Lance added, pulling out his phone and wincing at the time. “Ugh, and I should probably head home.”

 

“Oh, don’t let me kick you out,” Shiro started, but Lance waved a hand, rising.

 

“Nah, you’re good, dude. I should just get back to my own place before I fall asleep again.” He rubbed the back of his head with a wry grin.

 

“You can always stay,” Shiro offered, but Lance thought of Hunk’s parting words and… there was _no way_ he was giving him and Pidge the satisfaction.

 

“I’m good, promise. Besides, _someone_ says I snore,” he added with a pointed sniff.

 

Keith glanced up at him from picking at a hole in his sweatpants. “Because you do.”

 

“I don’t!”

 

“Believe what you want.”

 

Shiro shook his head, standing and heading for the hall. “I’m going to bed.” He clapped Lance on the shoulder as he passed. “Nice to see you, Lance. I’ll catch you later.”

 

“Goodnight, Pinterest princess,” Lance called after him. Shiro just shook his head again as he vanished into his bedroom. With a grin, Lance turned back to Keith, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially. “New official nickname?”

 

Keith snorted, grabbing the mugs off the coffee table as he stood and walked past him towards the kitchen. “You can call him whatever you want, but I am not calling my brother ‘Pinterest princess.’”

 

“Don’t rain on my parade, Ponytail.” Lance tugged his shoes on, balancing carefully on either foot.

 

Keith watched him hop around. “You could sit, you know.”

 

“Sitting’s for losers,” Lance announced as he straightened and patted his pockets. “Ah, crap, where’d I put my--”

 

Keith held his hand out, showing Lance the keys and wallet he held.

 

“Oh. Thanks.” Lance took them and shoved them into his pockets. “Okay, I guess I’m heading out, then. Thanks for the tea. And the emergency Pidge shelter.”

 

“Anytime.”

 

Lance grinned back at the small smile on Keith’s face. “Careful. I’ll take you up on that.”

 

“I don’t doubt that.” Keith leaned against the kitchen doorframe, crossing his arms.

 

Lance squinted at him as he pulled the door open. “What’s with the tone?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

 

Keith huffed a laugh, stepping forward to push gently at his shoulder. “Get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added after a second.

 

Lance shot him one last grin over his shoulder as he stepped out into the cold night air. “You can’t get rid of me, Ponytail. I know where you live.”

 

“I’ll take my chances. Bye, Lance.”

 

“Night, Keith.” He waved before turning and walking away, towards the stairs, listening for the sound of the door shutting before blowing a cloud of steam into the air.

 

That had gone… better than he expected, honestly. When Keith had first opened the door, Lance had been hit by the sudden realization that this could have been a very, very awkward night. Instead, it had been _nice._ Beneath all the layers of angst and emo, Keith was a funny, kind of awkward, genuinely nice guy. Man, first impressions could be wrong. Then again, the first time he’d met Hunk, he tripped over Lance on the playground at their elementary school and then apologized to him, so sometimes they were dead on. But he was maybe willing to admit, _maybe,_ that Keith had come off as a little different than he actually was, and _maybe_ Lance had jumped to a conclusion or two that was actually unfounded.

 

He hit the sidewalk with a little bounce, humming a Christmas song as he walked back to the van. Yeah, Keith was pretty good. Definitely better than Rolo. New Year’s was going to be fun.

 

***

 

The apartment was dark when Lance unlocked the door. He supposed that made sense; Hunk was just as tired as he was after their drive home the day before, and it was past midnight. As quietly as he could, he closed the door behind him and toed his shoes off, padding through the living room to drop the keys on the kitchen counter.

 

Lance nearly screamed as the lamp on their end table clicked on. As it was, he barely managed to wrangle it into a choked yelp, clutching his chest.

 

Pidge stared him down, deadpan. “Do you know what time it is?”

 

_“Pidge,_ holy fuck,” Lance wheezed. “I think you just gave me a heart attack.”

 

“Fulfilling my true role as the Grim Reaper. I always knew life would bring me here.”

 

Lance ignored her, taking a deep breath to try and calm his racing pulse as he tossed the keys onto the counter. “How long have you been sitting in the dark?”

 

She shrugged, reaching into the bag of Cheetos on her lap and pulling one out. “I turned the light out when I heard the key in the lock.”

 

“You’re a jerk,” Lance grumbled, sitting down on the couch next to her and reaching for the bag. “Gimme.”

 

She must have been in a good mood, because she let them go easily. “So. You were at Keith’s for…” She made a show of checking the watch she wasn’t wearing. “A while.”

 

Lance eyed her suspiciously, shoving a handful of Cheetos into his mouth. “I guess.”

 

Without saying a single word, she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

 

Lance smacked her shoulder. “Shut the fuck up.”

 

“Dude, come on! You, him, alone in his apartment--”

 

“Stop right there.”

 

“Then what _did_ you do? Besides Keith,” she added, a wicked grin curling across her face.

 

Lance groaned.

 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. Seriously, though, I can’t believe you _willingly_ spent that much time in his presence. Didn’t you used to hate Keith?”

 

“I… miscalculated,” Lance said, with great reluctance.

 

Pidge smirked, reaching over to grab a Cheeto. “Clearly.”

 

Lance glared at her. “Why are you still here and eating my food? Your house is safe now.”

 

Pulling a face, Pidge leaned back against the cushions. “It’s never safe, Lance. If I go home now Matt’s going to be all gross and sappy. I’m giving him twelve hours to cool down.”

 

“Reasonable,” Lance snorted.

 

“I think so. Now stop deflecting and answer the question.”

 

Lance shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Nothing. Just hung out. Watched TV.”

 

Pidge gave him a flat stare. “So you literally Netflix and chilled with him.”

 

“Not like _that,”_ Lance hissed, grabbing a pillow and smacking her in the chest. “It was a _literal-_ literal Netflix and chill. All we did was watch _Planet Earth.”_

 

“Oh my god, you guys were watching _documentaries?_ I apologize, Lance, you just graduated from friends with benefits to straight up married.”

 

“I hate you, you know that?”

 

“No you don’t,” she said, smirking.

 

Lance raised his eyes and said a short prayer to whatever deity was listening for patience. “Fine, but I reserve the right to call you a brat.”

 

“I’ll allow it.”

 

“You’re a brat.”

 

“It’s a talent.”

 

Lance shook his head, sighing. “Is this what Matt deals with all the time? No wonder he’s so gross with Shiro. I’d want you to leave too.”

 

“Cold, bro.” Pidge’s grin betrayed her words.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance stood. “I’m going to bed before I can suffer any more abuse. You staying here tonight?”

 

Pidge nodded, snagging the Cheetos out of his hand. “Yeah. Hunk went to bed a little while ago but he gave me some blankets and stuff. We weren’t sure you were going to make it back,” she added with another smug look.

 

“Aaand I’m leaving.”

 

“Wait.” Pidge snagged his sleeve over the back of the couch.

 

Lance scowled down at her. “What?”

 

Pidge still looked amused, but there was sincerity mixed in there now too. “Just answer me this one question and then I _promise_ I will keep the teasing to a minimum.”

 

Crossing his arms, Lance eyed her. “Pinky swear?”

 

“Pinky swear.”

 

“Fine,” he sighed. “Hit me.”

 

“Why don’t you want to talk about whatever’s between you and Keith?”

 

He expected it, because really, what else was she going to ask, but the question still pulled a frustrated noise out of him. “Because, Pidge, there’s really nothing. And there’s, like, a negative billion percent chance there ever would be. I told you, okay? Keith and I aren’t like that. There is not a snowball’s chance in Hell he likes me like that.”

 

Pidge studied him, amber eyes sharp. “But do you like _him_ like that?”

 

“No!” Lance paused, thinking of how Keith looked leaning over him on the couch, messy dark hair framing his thundercloud eyes in a way that was damn near breathtaking, and sighed. “No. I’m not-- That’s not happening.”

 

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

 

“Pidge,” Lance said slowly, “for the last time, there is no. Way. Keith likes me. That’s it. End of story.”

 

They stared at each other for another long second before Pidge sighed. “Fine. Thanks for answering.”

 

“Sure. You promise not to tease me about it anymore?”

 

“Only within reason,” she hedged, holding her pinky out.

 

Lance thought for a second before shrugging. “I can live with that.” He linked his little finger around hers, leaving it there while he tousled her hair with his other hand. “You need anything before I hit the hay?”

 

She wrinkled her nose, but tolerated it, which is how Lance knew they were truly having a moment. “Nah, I’m good. I will need your help convincing Hunk to make us waffles in the morning, though.”

 

“You know I always have your back when waffles are at stake.”

 

She cracked a grin. “My hero.”

 

As Lance headed towards his room, he shot her a fingergun and a wink. “You know it, Pidgeotto.”

 

“Go to bed, nerd,” she commanded, rolling her eyes as she flopped down onto the couch and out of sight.

 

He cackled as he closed his bedroom door behind him.

 

It didn’t take him long to get ready for bed, but by the time he curled up under his blankets and flipped the lights off, sleep was starting to turn the edges of his mind fuzzy.

 

Still, he took a moment and just let himself _think._ Let his mind go down the paths of all the _what ifs_ he denied with extreme prejudice on a basis tending towards alarmingly regular. Yeah, Keith was a nice guy. He was funny and undeniably attractive, he was a sweet dork who never hesitated to meet Lance taunt for taunt, he was smart and fierce and loyal and snarky and every glimpse Lance got of who he was, every new color revealed, just made him want to know more.

 

_But_. There was always a but.

 

Keith didn’t like him. Why would he? He was just _Lance._

 

So he stared at his ceiling and squashed any flickers of hope or interest kindling between his ribs and let all the _what ifs_ go, ignoring the unexpectedly sharp ache of it as he rolled over and closed his eyes.

 

It was fine. Lance had always known how it was. This was fine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille's testimonial: evanescence has nothing on you  
> So this may get a little angsty fair warning  
> Mmm...I love you all. /We/ love you all. Thank you so much for everything and a huge shout out to @leggylance on tumblr for the fic rec. That was fucking awesome of you. We appreciate it so so much
> 
> Also, no, I didn't really read this through. I worked and work was stupid and I'm hungry and I have no food  
> But Camille read it. So if there's a typo, it's her fault. And mine, but you know, more hers (i'm kidding i love you it's totally my fault)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Holding Lance’s sweatshirt in his hands—even after two days of it being  _ his _ , it was still firmly Lance’s—Keith thought, yet again, of when Lance had shown up at his door (a devil face emoji was not ample warning) and how he’d been a jittery jumble of nerves, trying to contain the knowledge that he was in love with a boy who was joking with him, falling asleep in his presence, slinging his legs over his lap, and trying not to announce it every five seconds.

 

But almost every single thing Lance did made Keith want to tell him. Lance would smile or flick his ponytail or just exchange a glance with him, one that explicitly said I  _ know  _ you and I know you liked that, and an extreme wave of fondness would wash over him and the words were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said.

 

And, last night, when they’d worked, he’d been so close more than once. Because it was so comfortable and easy between them and Keith was almost positive that he wasn’t crazy, that this thing wasn’t one sided, that Lance was equally obsessed.

 

Not positive enough, though. Because why would someone as bright and beautiful as that have anything to do with him? Lance relished life, Keith tolerated it. Lance fit easily into people’s lives, it took Keith a long time to slip his way in. Lance was important to so many people, essential to the spinning of their worlds, and Keith was just there. What was that line from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”? Something about being an attendant lord to Hamlet, good to start a few lines, say a few jokes, and nothing more. Yeah, that was him. In fact, that entire poem was him. How Lance had managed to fit into that loneliness, he had no idea. But there was no way he wanted to deal with it as closely as Keith wanted him to. After all, nobody  _ actually _ wanted to figure out what the fuck that poem meant.

 

Keith didn’t hear Shiro come out of his room. Only when Shiro said, “Maybe you should get a picture. It would be more interesting to stare at than a sweatshirt,” did he stop thinking himself in circles.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Sighing, Shiro sat down on the couch beside Keith. “Alright, I’m sorry.”

 

Not bothering to acknowledge that, Keith unfolded the sweatshirt and pulled it over his head, tugging the sleeves down around his hands. The sleeves were just long enough to do that. If Keith’s mind slowly detoured into stealing more of Lance’s clothing, it wasn’t his fault. It was Lance’s. He should’ve taken his sweatshirt back when he’d had the chance.

 

“Excited for the party tonight?” Shiro asked, clearly hell bent on getting Keith to talk.

 

Keith shrugged.

 

“New year.”

 

“Well observed.”

“Keith…”

“What?” Keith snapped, burying his face into the sweatshirt, pulling the collar up over his mouth. He wasn’t excited for the party, to be honest. Lance would be there and it would be familiar in a way work couldn’t be. All day he’d been in a mood, ripe for impulsivity, and Keith was worried he was going to do something stupid. In fact, he was so worked up about so many things that he’d been sitting still all day, trying to convince the rest of him to be just as still.

 

He’d overestimated his capacity for suffering. For this kind of suffering, anyway.

 

Not once had he had to protect something this fiercely, not when it was fighting this hard to give itself life.

 

“Come do something with me. We could go watch a movie?”

 

“Don’t want to.”

 

“You need to stop thinking about him.”

 

“I can’t,” Keith mumbled.

 

“Wallowing isn’t helping.”

 

“Nobody asked you.”

 

Throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulders and tugging him gently into his body, Shiro said softly, “Take off the sweatshirt, grab that rain jacket I got you, and let’s go for a walk. Anywhere. Come on, I’ll buy you something from that bookstore you like.”

 

“No thanks.”

 

There was a long stretch of silence. “You know, contrary to popular belief, I fell in love with Matt very quickly, much quicker than he fell in love with me. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I was…well, my life was a carefully maintained catastrophe…and he took my careful organization and messed it up spectacularly. For awhile, I was upset about that, until I realized I was breathing for the first time in a long time.

 

“But, for him, it was different. He had a life and as he likes to put it, I was a ‘fantastically gorgeous risk wrapped in impending disaster’. It took me awhile to sell him on the idea of us.”

 

“What’s your point?” Keith asked.

 

“I know what you’re feeling. And I know what can help.”

 

“I don’t need help. It’s stupid, anyway.”

 

“It’s not,” Shiro whispered. “There are different kinds of grief. And the feeling of losing something you don’t even have qualifies. Grief is serious business.”

 

“I hate talking to you.”

 

Laughing, Shiro ruffled his hair.  Nudging and jostling Keith from the couch, Shiro marched him to his room, forced him out of Lance’s sweatshirt, zipped up his rain jacket for him, and then led them out of the apartment.

 

When the fresh air hit Keith, he immediately felt better. Not completely, but enough that he could function, pretend there was nothing bothering him as he usually did. There was something about the biting wind, the way it clawed through his lungs, that made him feel purified and unfettered. Without looking at Shiro, Keith knew he was smiling smugly. Choosing to ignore it, Keith started for the bookstore.

 

The entire time they were out, Shiro didn’t say a word. He just lingered on the edges of Keith’s sight, making his presence known, clearly ready to offer comfort if any was needed. What Keith didn’t tell him was that his company alone was enough, more than he expected. Back in college, nobody had bothered. When he’d disappeared, they’d let him and didn’t ask questions when he’d come back.

 

Only once they were back in the apartment did Shiro speak. “How’s the party sound now?”

 

“Doable,” Keith replied.

 

“Can’t expect any more than that, can I?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“You don’t have to go.”

 

Imagining Lance’s face if he didn’t show up, Keith sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“You don’t have to give all of yourself, you know.”

 

“I can’t do it any other way,” Keith whispered, heading into his room. Two hours until the party.

 

***

 

On the drive to Allura’s house, where the party was being hosted--since it was actually big enough to comfortably fit them all--Keith kept messing with his hair. He still hadn’t decided whether he wanted to put it up or not. Lance liked it up. Without a doubt, Keith knew this. But it rubbed him the wrong way to do something just for Lance, but it was also an undeniable fact that he wanted most of Lance’s attention. He always did. The best case scenario for this party was them finding their way to each other and then spending the rest of the night chatting in a quiet corner.

 

_ Best case _ . Keith internally rolled his eyes. It was a daydream of a scenario more than anything else. 

 

“Up,” Shiro said from the driver’s seat.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Wear it up.”

 

“I didn’t ask you,” Keith grumbled.

 

“Just looks nicer.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Smirking, Shiro executed a turn, eyes focused on the road. Sighing, Keith crossed his arms over his chest, stared out the window, then let out a low sigh. Carefully gathering his hair into one hand, he secured it with a hairband. There was a low huff of laughter from Shiro and Keith thought about flipping him off when his phone buzzed. Digging it from his pocket, he glanced down at the screen.

 

_ >>Pidge: ok i need 2 talk t u _

_ >>i thought u might handle it better over text _

_ >>kind of serious _

 

_ >>Me: What? _

 

_ >>Pidge: u need 2 just tell lance how u feel _

_ >>2 his face _

 

_ >>Me: Excuse me? _

 

_ >>Pidge: just trust me keith _

_ >>k? _

_ >>hes being a goddamn unreasonable idiot and thats the only thing thats gonna work _

 

_ >>Me: Pidge… _

 

_ >>Pidge: hes dumb and insecure _

_ >>dont get me wrong i love him _

_ >>but he has trouble understanding people care about him _

_ >>its infuriating _

 

_ >>Me: I’m not sure I can just…tell him _

 

_ >>Pidge: try _

_ >>watching u 2 is unbearable _

_ >>im losing my mind _

 

_ >>Me: I’ll keep that in mind _

 

_ >>Pidge: good _

_ >>ill c u soon _

 

_ >>Me: Yeah _

 

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Keith let his head tip against the window, the glass shockingly cold. It didn’t stop him from feeling vaguely nauseous. He wasn’t sure he was ready for something like that. But, the truth was, he might never be.

 

Maybe if a moment arose…

 

Groaning, Keith mumbled, “How long do we have to stay?”

 

“As a general rule, until at least midnight. It is a New Year’s party.”

 

“Great.”

 

“I’ll leave whenever you want, though.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Keith said, repeating the words to himself. It was one night, one day of his life, and it wasn’t like he didn’t see Lance on others. This could be ordinary. Normal. If he just avoided alcohol and Pidge and Lance and… everyone, he would be…

 

Fuck, he wasn’t going to make it.

 

There was nothing he could do about it now, though. They were minutes away from Allura’s house and he’d already worked himself up into a tight ball of tension. It would be a waste of all that work if he just went home.

 

“You can just…” Shiro began.

 

“Hang out with you and Matt? Yeah, no thanks.”

 

“Nothing I can say is going to help you right now, is it?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

Nodding, Shiro reached over and punched Keith in the shoulder, earning him a small smile and eye roll. Shiro smiled back and Keith let the brief flash of warmth burn away some of his worries. Maybe this night wouldn’t be as disastrous as he was imagining. Maybe, just maybe, he was blowing his bad feeling out of proportion. It wouldn’t be unlike him.

 

He supposed he was about to find out.

 

***

 

Allura’s house was insane. Beautiful, massive, and gated. They’d literally had to buzz the house to get into the driveway.

 

Everyone was already there when he and Shiro arrived and hellos were exchanged, tours were given, glances were shared, but before long, Keith found himself wandering the halls upstairs, staring at photos, running his hands down walls, and peeking into rooms with open doors, curious what one did with all of this space. 

 

As he did, he wondered if he should’ve tried harder to stay downstairs with his friends, but it was understatement to say he wasn’t in the mood. Up here, alone, he could gradually feel himself calming down. In theory, he’d be able to return to the festivities. Because he did want to. That was his family down there and he loved them. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the whole night miserable just because he was inconveniently in love with Lance.

 

At the end of the hall—a long, magnificent space with hardwood floors, long, rich carpets, and strategically lit art—Keith could hear clattering on the stairs. Briefly, he considered hiding, but he found himself achingly curious if whoever that was was looking for  _ him _ . Why he wanted that so badly, he had no idea. His brain was such a contradictory thing.

 

Lance appeared at the top of the stairs, as though Keith had dreamed him into existence. Snorting audibly, he came down the hall and bumped his shoulder against Keith’s, staying close. “Parties really not your thing, huh?”

 

Keith shrugged.

 

“Dude, it started like an hour ago and you’ve been gone for forty five minutes of it. We do wanna hang out with you, you know. Both Pidge and Hunk have asked where you are like twelve times.”

 

“I almost didn’t come,” Keith mumbled, though that wasn’t entirely true.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Just not in the mood.”

 

Nodding, Lance suddenly grinned and tugged on Keith’s ponytail. “What can I do to flip that mood, Ponytail?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You telling me you’re gonna be all morose the entire night?”

 

Keith shrugged again.

 

Lance stared at him for a moment and then rolled his eyes. “Alright, come on,” he said, taking Keith’s hand in his and tugging him further down the hall. Following, Keith gazed down at their joined hands, feeling as though he was about to be torn in half. On one hand, being with Lance was a salve, a salve for practically everything, and Keith did feel his mood improving simply because he was here and they were together, and on the other hand, Lance was the reason he was so miserable in the first place and seeing their hands linked, wondering what would happen if he switched the hold, slipping his fingers in between Lance’s, made the ache in his chest stronger. It was a lot. Too much.

 

Wrenching his hand from Lance’s, trying to ignore the slightly wounded look on Lance’s face before he expertly covered it up, Keith said, “Where are you taking me?”

 

“I wanna show you something. You’ll like it, I promise.”

 

“You’ve been here before?”

 

“This isn’t the only New Year’s party we’ve had, you know.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

Stepping forward, looking almost cautious, Lance took his hand again. “Trust me, yeah?”

 

“I do. I just…”

 

“Keith,” Lance whined, tugging on his hand. “Come  _ on. _ ”

 

Smiling despite himself, Keith nodded. At the end of the hall, they turned into another, equally as long, but stopped midway, in front of a rich, cherry red door that was firmly closed. Paying that no mind, Lance grabbed the handle and turned it, letting them in. 

 

It was dark when they entered, but then Lance flicked the lights on, dropping Keith’s hand as he did.

 

The room was full of instruments. Of all kinds. There was a harp and a piano and cases up against the wall that looked as though they held violins and cellos and guitars. Walking over to the piano, Keith lifted the lid, some dust coating the pads of his fingers, and gently played a note. It rang through the room clear. “Why are there so many?” he asked.

 

“Allura’s parents were super into music. The both of them together could play all the instruments in this room. Well, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway. Allura can play a couple.”

 

“They’re dead?”

 

“Yeah. Happened a long time ago.”

 

Moving to the harp, Keith ran his hand along the top. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked. It seemed like the right question to ask, since Keith couldn’t play anything and he hadn’t professed any strong attachment to music to Lance. But, deep down, he knew it was the wrong question, because it was undeniably working. Maybe it was the dust, maybe it was stale air or the feeling of loss and abandonment, but it eased the tension in Keith’s shoulders. 

 

Lance’s voice was soft, pitched to the room, when he said, “I guess I don’t know. Just knew you’d like it. You do, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can you play anything in here?”

 

Keith shook his head, turning so that he could see Lance. “You?”

 

“Nah. Wish I could, though.”

 

“Same.”

 

Their eyes locked and held and Keith hurriedly looked away, going back to the piano, sitting on the bench, and pressing more keys, enjoying how the sound transformed the room, giving hints of what it had been like back when it was in use. 

 

Lance joined him a minute or two later, playing random keys at the same time Keith did.

 

Laughing, Keith said, “Well this is a shitty song we’re creating.”

 

“Bet we can make it shittier,” Lance said, adding both hands to the mix, banging loudly.

 

Laughing louder, Keith joined in, pressing his shoulder into Lance’s. They played and played until they were both laughing too hard to breathe, leaning over the keys and into each other. When the laughter trailed off, the shift in Keith’s mood didn’t follow, instead lingering in the space between them. He had a profound sense of being  _ known _ . Not just anyone could pull him out like that and certainly not so quickly.

 

Their eyes met again and this time, Keith didn’t drop his gaze. It seemed to surprise Lance and he shifted nervously. Remembering Pidge’s advice, Keith said, “Lance, I…”

 

Then the door to the room opened wide and Keith flinched violently, turning back to the piano, keeping his head low. Allura strolled in, a girl just as beautiful as her trailing behind. Smiling broadly, Allura said, “We heard the racket you two were making all the way downstairs and we thought we’d come see if everything was alright.” Then Allura smiled broadly at the girl beside her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Besides, Nyma wanted a proper tour and who am I to deny her?”

 

Standing, Lance said, “Nothing much going on here. Want us to leave you guys to it? I need to drag Keith back down to the party, anyway. I think he’s finally done moping.”

 

Sighing, Keith stood. “Is this the mysterious date?” he asked.

 

Blushing, Allura nodded.

 

Smiling, Nyma waved casually and Keith smiled back as best he could. Then he headed for the door, happy to leave them alone and suddenly happy to join the party. The interruption clearly hadn’t bothered Lance in the slightest and Keith didn’t want to think about that. He needed someone to supervise him, so he didn’t say anything quite as stupid as what he’d been about to say. Being alone with Lance was not doing him any favors.

 

Only a beat later, he heard Lance following him.

 

Nudging up against him, Lance said, “And here I thought I’d helped.”

 

Smiling half-heartedly, Keith replied, “You did.”

 

“Pretty great room, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They made their way back downstairs and when they arrived, everyone cheered at the sight of Keith, Hunk running over and sweeping him into a hug that lifted him off his feet. Allowing it, Keith felt okay. It was nice to be missed. And if he “accidentally” forgot about Lance and let him trail off to engage in conversation with someone else, that was alright. For the best, even.

 

***

 

Another two hours into the party, nearing ten, most everyone was drunk, the alcohol abundant and free. Keith was not. It kind of the made the whole affair even more unbearable, but he was already feeling impulsive and unhinged. Alcohol was not a good combination with either of those things.

 

They were all smooshed onto couches, watching a movie. Keith thought he was probably the only one actually watching it. The others were all laughing and conversing loudly, some about the movie, some not.

 

Pidge, of course, managed to corner him in the hubbub, sitting directly on his lap unashamedly. Her face was flushed and Keith briefly thought of Thanksgiving, the mere memory of it practically making him laugh. Looking up at her, Keith rolled his eyes and said, “What?”

 

Playfully, she poked Keith in the chest and said, “Take my advice yet?”

 

“No.”

 

She groaned, slinging an arm around his neck to keep herself upright. “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

 

“Waiting.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Until they’re my last words on this earth and I don’t have to deal with the repercussions of them.”

 

“God, it’s ridiculous how similar the two of you are. Stubborn and unwilling to see the most goddamn obvious thing in the world.”

 

“Uh huh,” Keith sighed, wrapping an arm around Pidge’s waist and tugging in her close. “Now, how about we watch this movie and stop talking? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

“I guess. It’s kind of dumb.”

 

“Probably helps to know what’s going on.”

 

“Well, not everyone can be as bad at partying as you, Keith. I mean, who actually watches movies at these sorts of things?”

 

Snorting, Keith said, “Me.”

 

“You’re the lamest friend I have.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“But I love you.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Keith said, smiling.

 

“Oh god, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

 

“What?”

 

“You can’t say ‘I love you’ to an actual, breathing person. I’ll admit, I probably should’ve considered that, but, you know, most people are capable of it when they have to be. I guess you could just tell Lance you really like him, but I’m not sure that’ll get…”

 

“Say that louder, why don’t you?” Keith grumbled.

 

“Nobody’s listening.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Tell me you love me, Keith. Come on. I know you do.”

 

“No thanks.”

 

“This is even more hopeless than I thought it was.”

 

“Then maybe you should just leave it alone,” Keith said.

 

“Never,” she grinned. Without warning, she started poking him over and over again in the stomach. “Come on, I know you love me.”

 

The poking seemed to have caught everyone else’s attention and they all started laughing, telling Pidge to leave Keith alone. Except Lance, of course, who was cheering her on. But Keith, for once, recognized it for what it was, nothing mean-spirited, just the way he had fun and showed affection.

 

Naturally, Keith’s eyes followed the sound and when his eyes landed on Lance, he noticed his eyes were clear, his skin not flushed. He was just as sober as Keith. That seemed strange and Keith’s brain got stuck on the detail. Clearly, he’d stared too long, because Pidge elbowed him in the arm. “Hi,” she smirked devilishly when his attention was back on her. 

 

Gently shoving her off his lap, Keith stood and headed for the kitchen, two rooms over, accessible through a hall and a fanatically grand dining room. Opening cupboard after cupboard, he eventually found a glass. Heading for the tap, he filled it with water and took a few sips, leaning his head back against one of the cabinets and staring up at the ceiling. Only two more hours to go and he could leave. He could get his shit together and actually behave like a normal person the next time they all saw each other.

 

There was a knock on the wall and Keith lowered his head to see Lance. Again. Keith wondered if Pidge was sending him or if Lance really noticed each time he disappeared and wanted to bring him back. Smiling, more prepared for this than he had been last time, Keith said, “I’m good this time. Promise.”

 

“The little gremlin is irritating, isn’t she?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“How’s the movie?”

 

“Not half bad, actually.”

 

“Huh,” Lance said. “Might have to actually watch it sometime, then.”

 

Having nothing to say to that, Keith went down a different path. “You’re not drinking.”

 

“Neither are you.”

 

“Just thought you would be.”

 

“I gotta admit, I was kind of looking forward to seeing drunk Keith in action. It’s one thing over text, but I feel like it would be extra great in real life. I can just see the endless amounts of blackmail I could record.”

 

“Yeah. Endless,” Keith scoffed.

 

“Dude, you get  _ soft.” _

 

“Shut up.”

 

Crossing the room, Lance hopped up on the counter right beside Keith, kicking him gently in the side with one of his swinging legs. “Kind of crazy it’s gonna be a new year tomorrow, huh?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“So conversational,” Lance teased.

 

“That’s me.”

 

“I didn’t really ask, but you are alright, aren’t you? Like, you know you can talk to me if you aren’t, right? I can probably even promise not to make jokes.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” Lance said, clearly not believing him, but not pushing it. Then he slid off the counter. “I’m gonna go rejoin the party.”

 

“Didn’t you come to the kitchen for something?”

 

“I mean, yeah. You. But you don’t wanna talk, so I’m gonna leave.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Yeah?” Lance asked, pausing in his movements. His face was open and earnest and Keith wished he had something to say, but he didn’t. He hadn’t, even when he’d said Lance’s name. He’d just wanted Lance to stay. 

 

Maybe he wanted to say, “Don’t go.” 

 

Instead, he said, “Never mind.”

 

When Lance left, he returned his gaze to the ceiling, drinking more water. Whatever the reason, that was the second time Lance had come to seek him out tonight. That was something. For the first time all night, Keith felt himself escaping his own head, the hope in his chest flaring to life, burning away everything else. Maybe he’d been wrong about how easily dismissive Lance had been upstairs, maybe Pidge wasn’t crazy, maybe  _ he  _ wasn’t crazy. Maybe, just maybe, if Keith told Lance he loved him, Lance would say it back.

 

***

 

It was ten minutes to midnight and they were all scattered throughout the house, Coran promising he would yell for them when the ball was about to drop. Why watching a ball slowly descend a pole was interesting, Keith had no idea, but everyone seemed pumped. The air everywhere was electric and Keith felt better than he had all night. He, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were outside on Allura’s patio, bundled in as many blankets as they’d been able to find, her fire pit lit. They were roasting marshmallows—Lance’s idea—and chatting about anything and everything.

 

“Here, Lance,” Pidge said, tossing three marshmallows one after another into his face, “For your club sandwich, s’more style.”

 

“Stop saying that like it’s a stupid idea. It’s brilliant.”

 

“You’ll probably need extra chocolate, too, huh?” she asked, throwing him chunks of that as well, most falling to the ground.

 

It didn’t seem to concern Lance. Sneering at Pidge, he stuck the three marshmallows on one stick and put them near the base of the fire, over the coals. He was obsessed with getting them golden brown. Everyone else just stuck it in the flame and let it burn. It was faster.

 

When one of the marshmallows started to melt off the stick, Keith grabbed a graham cracker and caught it, handing it to Lance who grinned brightly at him. “See?” he said, “Keith likes my club sandwich idea. He gets the second bite. I get the first, of course”

 

Smiling, Keith said, “Eh, it’s not all that revolutionary.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You seriously can’t believe you’re the first person to think of it.”

 

“I can too! I haven’t seen anyone else do it and that’s good enough evidence for me. I think I’ll call it the Lancinator.”

 

They all burst into laughter and Hunk patted Lance on the shoulder sympathetically. He rolled his eyes and smiled at all of them, turning to Keith and having him help assemble the s’more, which was a lot stickier and complicated than Keith had imagined it would be. By the time half of it was in Lance’s mouth, Keith could pull his fingers apart and dangling strings of marshmallow were hanging between them. 

 

“Ugh,” he said, reaching over and wiping his hands on Lance’s shirt. The blankets had slipped down to Lance’s waist a long time ago, since he kept moving.

 

In the middle of chewing, Lance turned to him and stared. 

 

“Uh oh,” Hunk mumbled.

 

“Run, Keith,” Pidge said.

 

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s his fault I’m covered in marshmallow.”

 

“You’re about to be more covered in marshmallow.”

 

“Or dead,” Hunk said. “I’m not sure I can watch.”

 

The door to the patio cracked open and Coran stuck his head out. “Three minutes till the ball drops. It’s going to be a good one this year. I can sense it.”

 

“It’s the same every goddamn year,” Keith mumbled.

 

“What was that, lad?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Hardly in the spirit,” Pidge said in a rather good imitation of Coran’s voice.

 

Laughing, Hunk stood, lifted Pidge from her chair and slung her over his shoulder. Waving as he walked back to the house, he said, “Have fun dying, Keith. Hope I see you next year.”

 

Propping herself up with an arm against Hunk’s back, Pidge winked. Keith didn’t know if it was in reference to their conversation from earlier or how dead he was, but he didn’t want to read too much into it. Glancing at Lance, Keith nodded towards the house and said, “Are we going to…”

 

He was interrupted by Lance shoving one half of his s’more, marshmallow side up, into his face. Eyes sparkling in the firelight, Keith just sat there in a mixture of surprise and grudging acceptance—perhaps he kind of did deserve this—as Lance rubbed the marshmallow into his face, graham cracker crumbling away and falling into Keith’s lap.

 

Slowly, Lance pulled his hand back and laughed, snapping a quick picture with his phone. Glaring at him, Keith touched his cheek and groaned as his hand came away sticky. Popping one finger at a time into his mouth, Keith mumbled, “Wow, thanks. Just what I wanted.”

 

“Suits you, Ponytail.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you think so.”

 

“I’ve got some more if you want.”

 

“Or you could eat it.”

 

“I suppose I  _ could _ ,” Lance said, glancing down at remained of his s’more. “It’s a lot more fun putting it on your face, though.”

 

Sighing, Keith continued methodically removing what he could. Then he came to an abrupt stop when Lance’s fingers rested on his cheek, wiping gently. Meeting his eyes, Keith lost all track of everything that was going on, though he was about eighty percent sure his mouth was hanging open. In a quiet voice, one made for nighttime, Lance said, “You missed some chocolate.”

 

“I’m sure I’ve missed a lot more than chocolate.”

 

“True,” Lance snorted, wiping some more. “Your face is a mess, man.”

 

“Fascinating.”

 

“It’s cute, don’t worry.”

 

Clearing his throat, Keith turned his gaze to the fire and said, “Shouldn’t we be in the house? There’s no way you want to miss the ball drop. It’s your kind of thing.”

 

“I’m alright out here.”

 

“Lance…”

 

He shrugged. “We’ve probably already missed it. And it  _ is _ the same every year. You weren’t wrong about that.”

 

For a moment, Keith truly didn’t understand. Sure, it was something he was alright missing, but it was right up Lance’s alley. He loved ceremony, pomp and circumstance, confetti, big sparkly balls, being with his friends, and yet he was out here with Keith, the fire, and the cloudy sky. None of the math added up. Until the hopeful part of Keith, that had been lit in the kitchen, whispered, “Maybe he wants to be with you more than he wants the rest of that.”

 

And, suddenly, the feelings, the indecision, the nerves all surged up at once. This felt like a moment, the moment Keith had been waiting for. The words were there, ready to be said, past ready, but he couldn’t say them. Not to Lance. Not to those stunning, waiting eyes, their mirth spreading down to the corners of his mouth. They were too calm and calculated, the product of someone who knew what they were doing when faced with a situation like this. Keith was overflowing, spilling around the edges, his nervousness and anticipation sparking up the air between them.

 

Maybe it was because they were definitely in the next year by now and it was what people did in the movies. Maybe it was because it seemed like the only way he could explain  _ everything. _ Or maybe it was because Keith could not stop looking at Lance’s lips, warm and inviting in the orange glow. Whatever the reason, Keith scooted closer and cupped Lance’s face in both his hands, running his thumb back and forth across his cheekbone, and kissed him.

 

For a second, it was perfect. Keith had no idea whether or not Lance was kissing back, but it hardly mattered, because he’d wanted to do this for ages and it felt  _ right _ . This is what he was meant to be doing. Lance’s lips were so soft and tasted faintly of marshmallow and Keith felt light, as though he was about to float away. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so light.

 

But then Keith pulled away to judge Lance’s reaction and immediately wished he hadn’t, wished he’d stayed in the moment and pretended forever, because the only way to describe Lance’s face was horrified. Immediately dropping his hands into his lap, Keith felt the fall back to earth. Once he landed, bruised and battered, he knew he had to leave and tend to his wounds alone.

 

There was a noise from Lance, a completely indecipherable one, but Keith paid it no attention. Standing, leaving the blankets behind, Keith hurried back to the house. Slipping inside, he avoided the living room. He could hear everyone, cheering and wishing each other a happy new year. After turning himself around a couple of times, not going the most direct way, Keith eventually found the entryway. In a room to the side, all of their jackets were lying on chairs. Finding Shiro’s, he snagged the keys. 

 

When he was sitting in the front seat of Shiro’s car, he texted him.

 

_ >>Me: Needed to go home but didn’t want to ruin your fun _

_ >>If you can’t catch a ride from Matt let me know and I’ll come pick you up _

 

It wasn’t unexpected when Shiro got back to him right away. Keith was relatively sure he’d been expecting a text exactly like this most of the night. From the moment they’d left the apartment, he’d been in ultimate dad mode.

 

_ >>Shiro: I’m coming. Stay _

 

_ >>Me: It’s really not a big deal _

 

There wasn’t a response to that. Aware that he needed to stay in motion or he would come crumbling down, Keith started the car and began to drive away when he saw Shiro waving his arms above his head. Jolting the car to a stop, Keith waited.

 

Opening the passenger door, Shiro got in, glanced at Keith and then said, “I think maybe I should drive.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“Yes, I…fuck.” Bending over the wheel, Keith squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. He wasn’t going to cry, not in the driveway of Allura’s house and not with someone else in the car. He refused.

 

The determination got him through switching seats with Shiro and half the drive, but then sitting and doing nothing, letting his brain run the show, caught up to him. Slamming the palm of his hand into the dashboard, Keith swore loudly. The acute physical pain distracted slightly from the general ache in his chest.

 

“What happened?” Shiro murmured.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“That’s not going to cut it, Keith.”

 

“Lance doesn’t like me.”

 

“Well, I think that’s probably…”

 

“Like that,” Keith forced out.

 

“Are you sure you aren’t reading too much into something?”

 

“I don’t know, Shiro,” Keith said. “When you kiss someone, do they typically look at you like you just committed an act equivalent to killing their mother?”

 

“I… no.”

 

“Didn’t think so.”

 

“Maybe there’s…”

 

“There’s not,” Keith said firmly. “I was wrong.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Looking up at the roof of the car, fighting back tears, Keith said, “Think he’ll stop talking to me?”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what people do when shit gets complicated, Shiro. They leave. They all leave.”

 

Sighing, Shiro said, “I think you know Lance better than that.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

“What?”

 

“You let someone know how you feel. That’s hard. I’m proud of you for trying,” Shiro said.

 

For some reason,  _ that _ was what finally pushed down the last of Keith’s walls. Holding back a sob, tears streamed down his face. Sniffling loudly, he brushed them away almost as frequently as they came. Shiro didn’t say a word the rest of the drive, nor when they arrived home. He just lead Keith upstairs, directed him to the couch, and brought him a huge bowl of ice cream. Sitting down beside him, he turned on the TV, a New Year’s celebration lighting up their living room. Quickly, he changed the channel to a history documentary.

 

“Happy New Year,” Keith said flatly.

 

“May it be better than the last,” Shiro whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big fuckin shoutout to anaahat for this one, who begged for a new chapter today. i'd like to take this opportunity now to remind you how angry you were with kelly and request you please don't kill me for this
> 
> bigger shoutout to all y'all who commented in the last twenty-four hours. i know kelly's chapter was mean and i'm mean but i honestly got such a kick out of some of you guys' messages. i love every last one of you <3
> 
> as always, we're on tumblr: [i'm here](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) and [kelly is here](http://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and uh... sorry in advance

Someone rapped on the door, loud and sharp. Lance listened from his spot on the floor, tucked against the couch with his head down on the coffee table, as Hunk answered it.

 

“Okay,”  Pidge’s voice came, “what is going on?”

 

“You should really ask him,” Hunk replied.

 

Lance groaned into his folded arms. “I’m right  _ here,  _ guys, come on.”

 

Something solid and warm thumped down next to him. “Doesn’t look like you’re here,” Pidge said. “Kinda looks like someone left a pile of garbage-- jesus, Lance, are you listening to Lana Del Rey?”

 

“I’m in  _ pain,  _ Pidge, don’t judge me.”

 

She sighed. “Okay, okay. What happened, buddy?”

 

Groaning again, Lance shifted so he could rest his chin on the table, gesturing limply in front of him as he spoke. “I don’t  _ know!  _ Keith just-- I don’t know why he did that. He ruined everything, Pidge! It was fine, we were fine, and then he had to go and-- I mean, like,  _ not,  _ but… and I don’t even know why! And then he just  _ left!  _ That beautiful, cryptic, cowardly asshole!” he finished, dropping his forehead back to the table.

 

“Dude,” Pidge said after a second, “I need you to tell me in, like,  _ words.” _

 

Lance whined, sitting up to bury his face in his hands. “Keith kissed me,” he mumbled.

 

“He-- Oh, god.”

 

He peeked over at her; Pidge had her own head in her hands. Hunk sat behind her on the couch, chewing his thumbnail anxiously. “What do you mean, oh god?”

 

“Nothing, Keith’s just an idiot,” she sighed, looking back up at him. “Listen, Lance, I get why that surprised you… Well, no, I don’t, but I  _ understand  _ you’re surprised. But what’s the actual issue here?”

 

“Pidge,” Lance said, incredulous. “Were you not listening? Keith  _ kissed  _ me.”

 

She nodded slowly, raising her eyebrows.

 

“And--” Lance swallowed hard, dropping his head back down to avoid her eyes. “And I think I  _ like  _ him.”

 

That was a lie. Lance was painfully, viscerally aware he liked Keith. After that moment on the patio, that one heart-stopping, blood-freezing, mind-bending moment when Keith cupped his face and leaned in and pressed his impossibly soft, slightly chapped lips to Lance’s before getting up and walking away like it was  _ fucking nothing,  _ Lance had been frozen in place while a hundred fractured memories danced in front of his eyes.  Keith laughing as they pounded the piano keys together, smiling down at him when he woke up on his couch, his soft voice over the phone as Lance watched the rippled light of the pool play over the trees in his backyard, the strange pull in his chest the night Keith drove him home, dancing in the Planet, tripping through the corn maze, fuck, the very first time he saw Keith laugh, the night he threw the garlic knot back in Lance’s face-- every time in the last three months his stomach swooped or his heart clenched, every moment that  _ mattered,  _ slammed back into his consciousness like a trainwreck on repeat.

 

Yeah, Lance liked Keith. He liked Keith a lot.

 

Pidge spoke again, pulling Lance out of his spiraling thoughts. “I could say  _ I told you so,  _ but I’ll refrain.” She paused, like she was waiting for a response, but Lance just gave a tiny shrug. “I don’t get it. Isn’t this a good thing?”

 

“A good--” Lance dropped his hands to stare at her again. “A  _ good  _ thing?”

 

Pidge nodded again, slow, like he was an idiot. “Yes, Lance, a good thing. It’s generally a good thing when someone you like kisses you.”

 

And the sticky black tar-like feeling that had been crawling up Lance’s ribs all night and creeping into his throat was set ablaze. “A  _ good  _ thing. Yeah, Pidge, it would have been great. Fucking great! Fantastic! The stupid feelings I’ve been trying to ignore for the last  _ two fucking months  _ suddenly get shoved back in my face because Keith  _ kissed  _ me and he  _ doesn’t even like me!  _ So you’re right! Geez, why  _ am  _ I being so goddamn pathetic about this?!”

 

“Hey, Lance…” Hunk said, soft but warning, and Lance blinked a couple times to clear his vision. 

 

His bruised heart dropped as he saw Pidge’s wide amber eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Pidge.” He reached for her with a shaking hand before snatching it away, running it through his hair as he choked out a broken laugh. “Man, I’m really a disaster, huh?”

 

There was a second of silence before Pidge said, softly, “It’s-- it’s okay.”

 

Lance shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “It’s  _ not.  _ I’m sorry.”

 

“Lance.” She laid a hand on his arm, and he peered at her through his fingers. “It is okay. I’m sorry too.”

 

He snorted, a little muffled. “What the hell for? Coming over just so I could yell at you? Becoming friends with an asshole like me?”

 

“Hey.” The grip on his arm tightened a fraction. “You’re not an asshole, and I’m not mad. I’m just sorry that-- that I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you. I shouldn’t have teased you. I’m sorry.”

 

Slowly, Lance lifted his head, staring at her with wide eyes. It’s not like he didn’t love Pidge to death, because he absolutely did, but sincerity wasn’t something they  _ did.  _ They teased and snarked and mocked with the understanding that, somewhere beneath it all, they actually genuinely  _ cared  _ for each other. Lance hadn’t ever heard her articulate it like that. It left him a little speechless. “I-- it’s okay.”

 

It was silent for a second as they all sat there and let the moment settle, before Hunk leaned forward. “I don’t understand, though, Lance. Keith kissed you. He likes you too. This is a good thing!”

 

Lance sighed heavily. His feelings for Keith, that had been a realization-- instant and all-consuming. The conclusion he’d drawn, though… That had crept up on him. It started as the roar of blood from his pounding heart faded just enough for him to hear the pop of the fireworks as the clock struck midnight. It grew when he finally dragged himself back into the house, only to find that Keith and Shiro had bailed half an hour before. It ate away at his stomach as he put on his best smile, acting like nothing happened even as he snuck into the kitchen to down four shots in quick succession. It spread into his veins like poison as he sat in the backseat of the van as Hunk drove Shay home. And it finally, finally settled into his heart, as he lay in his bed and watched the first light of the new year crawl across his ceiling and replayed the moment Keith had gotten up and walked away.

 

The conclusion he’d drawn was that Keith didn’t care about him. Not the way Lance cared.

 

Fuck. Lance didn’t like him at all.

 

He swallowed before answering. “Because, buddy, Keith  _ doesn’t  _ like me.”

 

There was a beat.

 

_ “What?”  _ Pidge squawked.

 

Simultaneously, Hunk groaned, “Ohh, man.”

 

“Listen,” Lance insisted, raising his voice over Pidge’s frustrated noises as she sank down to prop her elbows on the coffee table, head cradled in her hands, “I’ve thought about it a lot, okay? Keith doesn’t like me. Or, you know, he’s not-- he doesn’t-- it’s different from what I…” He trailed off, unable to articulate exactly how he felt without using the one word he was desperately trying to avoid even  _ thinking. _

 

“Why?” Pidge mumbled into her hands. “Why would he even kiss you if he didn’t like you? Why are you like this?”

 

Lance poked her. “I’m ignoring that, but as for your second question, do you even know what day it is, Pidge?”

 

She stared at him like he’d grown another head.

 

“It’s  _ New Year’s.” _

 

Her face morphed from confused-blank to horrified-blank. “Lance, for the love of god, tell me you don’t think--”

 

“Keith only kissed me because it was New Year’s Eve.”

 

Another chorus of groans greeted this statement.

 

“Buddy,” Hunk started, padding Pidge on the back soothingly, “are you sure about that? That doesn’t really sound like something Keith would do.”

 

And… and that was  _ true,  _ but… “Him liking me doesn’t make sense either,” Lance insisted, “and it’s gotta be one of them.”

 

“Right, sure, okay, but why couldn’t that one be the one where he likes you?”

 

_ “Because--”  _ the word exploded out of him with the pent-up force of the last twelve hours-- “if he likes me, why wouldn’t he  _ say  _ something? Why would he just-- just get up and leave?” He mumbled the last bit.

 

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a long look before Pidge sighed. “Okay, look.” She grabbed her backpack from the floor beside her, covered in the patches, pins and buttons she’d been collecting the last few years. Lance traced her X-Files patch with the ghost of a smile as she dug through her bag, pulling out her notebook with a triumphant “a-ha.” Setting the notebook down on the table between them, she leaned in and started scribbling. 

 

Lance watched her for a second. “What are you doing?” he asked, finally.

 

She traced a careful arrow across the page. “Making a flowchart.”

 

“Of…?”

 

“Whether Keith likes you or it was just a New Year’s thing.”

 

Lance blinked. That was… ridiculous, and incredibly nerdy, and  _ so goddamn Pidge.  _ She was trying to help him using her own way of logic, showing him how she saw the world.

 

For whatever reason, it was that, after twelve hours of quiet misery, that broke him down. As his breath caught on a sob, he buried his face in Pidge’s hair, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders and tucking her against his side.

 

She stilled, but didn’t say a word, just carefully slid her own arm around his waist before picking back up on her flowchart.

 

Hunk gently patted him on the back before he got up and vanished into the kitchen. Lance appreciated it. He wasn’t usually opposed to sharing-- loudly-- how he felt, but crying was a different story. He hated crying. It felt pathetic and vulnerable and weak, and he didn’t like other people seeing those parts of him. Hunk and Pidge were his best friends, but even they didn’t see him cry that often.

 

Still, as far as literal shoulders to cry on, Pidge was a pretty good one. She sat there without complaining or saying a word as Lance breathed, broken and hitched, against her shoulder, hiding his face in her soft hair, just squeezing him back with the tiniest tremor to her arm.

 

After a few minutes, he pulled away, clearing his throat and wiping his face with a loud sniff. Pidge’s pen paused above the page, but she resumed her writing after a second, still silent. Lance kept his arm around her, leaning in to see what she’d written.

 

As he traced his eyes over the page, something jumped out at him. “This chart seems biased.”

 

“I’m adjusting for the qualitative value of your obliviousness.”

 

Lance scowled down at the top of her head. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Pidge, geez.”

 

With a flourish, Pidge tore the page out her notebook and handed it to him. “Here.”

 

Reluctantly, he took it from her and examined it closer, brow furrowing. “There’s only, like, two options for Keith not liking me.” Lance pointed at the page. “And you wrote ‘impossible’ next to them both.”

 

“Gee,” Pidge said, deadpan, “I wonder why that is.”

 

He sighed, putting the page back on the table. “Pidge, listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here-- really-- but there’s no way Keith actually likes me.”

 

“Lance,” Pidge started, voice sharp, “why is this so hard for you to believe?”

 

Leaning back against the couch, Lance gestured vaguely. God, he felt miserable. Like the emotions clogging his chest weren’t enough already, now his throat hurt and his eyes were all swollen from crying like a fucking baby, and every question from his friends, no matter how well-meant they were, just added to the thousand-ton weight sitting somewhere between his ribs. “Keith is  _ Keith.  _ He’s-- He’s funny, and fierce, and  _ gorgeous, _ and nice, and…” His voice failed him for a second before he swallowed and soldiered on. “He’s great. An asshole, but great. And I’m-- I’m just  _ me.  _ He deserves better.” He said the last part in a near-whisper, dropping his eyes to the floor.

 

Hunk had come out to lean against the kitchen counter as he spoke, and now he made a soft noise. “Lance…”

 

Whatever else he was going to say was lost as Pidge suddenly shoved the coffee table away, moving into the cleared space in front of him and leaning in. “Okay,” she started, brown eyes burning into his, “I’m only going to say this once, Lance, so you gotta listen to me.  _ Really  _ listen. Don’t interrupt, don’t say anything, just-- just hear what I’m saying, okay?” She waited for his nod before she continued.

 

“You and Hunk--” She interrupted herself with a scowl, twisting to grab Lance’s phone off the table and rip the aux cord out. 

 

“Hey!” Lance protested.

 

She chucked his phone back onto the table. “I am  _ not  _ doing this to Lana Del Rey. Deal with it.”

Taking a deep breath, she started again. 

 

“You and Hunk are the best friends I’ve ever had. Actually, I’ve never really  _ had  _ many friends. It was… hard for me to connect with people in grade school, so I never really learned, and then when I went to college…. Well, it didn’t get any better. Pretty much the only person I ever had was Matt.

 

“So when I met you guys, three years ago, it honestly changed my life. I mean, come  _ on, _ I was hanging out at a shitty pizza place waiting for my brother to get off work every night. Clearly, there were some issues I wasn’t dealing with.” She paused, drawing a shaky breath. “And you guys just-- just  _ accepted  _ me. No questions, no problems. Do you remember how much of a dick I was to you guys at first? That was just how I learned to treat people because, honestly, I was  _ scared.  _ Of being rejected, or teased, or-- or whatever. I have never, in my whole life, had friends like you and Hunk,” she repeated, voice soft. “It felt like I just  _ belonged  _ with you guys. Like you had been missing the whole time and I never realized.”

 

Her amber eyes met Lance’s as she continued, and his heart clenched as he saw the tears she was trying to blink back. “So please, Lance,  _ please  _ don’t say that about yourself. I’m really not exaggerating when I say you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and most importantly, you’re a  _ really  _ good friend. Maybe you and Keith aren’t meant to be together, or whatever, but it shouldn’t be because you don’t think you’re  _ good  _ enough.”

 

In three years, Lance had never heard Pidge talk as much at once. He sat there for a long second, processing her words, before he lunged forward and dragged her into a hug. Her arms wrapped around him instantly, squeezing just this side of too hard.

 

He took a shaky breath, leaning his cheek against her hair. “Thanks, Pidgey.”

 

“Anytime,” she mumbled into his chest, and they both ignored the distinct wetness to it.

 

Hunk didn’t even try to hide the tears on his face as he sank down next to them and swept them both into a hug. Lance leaned into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and just  _ breathing,  _ absorbing the shaky peace of the moment, the warmth of his friends.

 

“I love you guys,” he said after a minute, pouring every drop of sincerity he could muster into the words and hoping they knew how much he  _ meant  _ it.

 

“We love you too, dummy,” Pidge said. Lance tipped his forehead down to rest against the top of her head and let himself believe it.

 

They sat there for a long time. Lance was just starting to fall into a doze, breathing in the smell of Pidge’s shampoo, when the oven started beeping.

 

“My cookies!” Hunk jumped to his feet, hurrying into the kitchen.

 

Pidge snorted, finally pulling away from Lance. She didn’t go far, though, settling close enough next to him their shoulders were pressed together. Lance took that as an invitation to sling his arm around her again. She didn’t protest. “You really made cookies?”

 

“Hey,” Hunk said from the kitchen, rifling through a drawer for the oven mitts, “don’t underestimate the healing powers of food.”

 

Lance jostled her. “If she doesn’t want her cookies, I’ll take them.”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

They sat there in companionable silence for a minute, listening to Hunk banging around in the kitchen, before Pidge nudged him.

 

“So what are you going to do?”

 

Lance avoided her eyes. “About what?”

 

“Ha ha. About  _ Keith,  _ come on.”

 

Lance groaned, tilting his head back against the seat of the couch. The angle left him staring at the ceiling. “Piiidge.”

 

“Lance.”

 

“I thought we went over this.”

 

“No,” she started, sitting up to jab a finger in his face, “we went over how  _ utterly fucking ridiculous  _ you were being.”

 

“Okay okay okay,” Lance broke into her rant, gently pushing her hand down, “I’m a fantastic human being worthy of love, whatever. I still don’t think Keith likes me.”

 

“For the love of all that is holy,” Pidge moaned, slapping a hand over her eyes,  _ “why?” _

 

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Because he  _ left. _ He just kissed me and then walked away like nothing happened. I’m not, like,  _ opposed  _ to just, you know, meaningless kissing between friends,” he clarified, “but I--”

 

“You?” Pidge prompted as he stopped and swallowed, hard.

 

Lance buried his head in his hands. “I really like him.”

 

“Lance, please don’t take this the wrong way, but  _ fucking finally.”  _ He huffed a reluctant laugh and Pidge gave him a friendly, if slightly too hard, punch in the arm. “What took you so long?”

 

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” he admitted.

 

She shook her head at him as Hunk came back into the room, holding a plate full of cookies. “Bon appetit,” he announced, setting them down on the coffee table.

 

Lance clung to his leg like an octopus. “Buddy, you treat me so right.”

 

Hunk patted his head. “Always will, dude.”

 

“What did I do to deserve such good friends?” Lance wondered, reaching for a cookie.

 

PIdge shrugged, taking a bite of pure chocolatey chip deliciousness. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

 

Lance stopped with his cookie halfway to his mouth. “Pidge, don’t  _ say  _ things like that. I’ve already cried enough for one day. Week. Month. Year. Deca--”

 

Pidge shut him up by jamming a cookie in his open mouth. “We get it.”

 

_ “Lifetime,”  _ Lance finished, chomping obnoxiously.

 

Hunk shook his head, but a fond smile played across his face. “Seriously, man, what are you going to do now?”

 

“Eavesdropper,” Lance accused.

 

“Guilty. Question still stands, though.”

 

Lance squinted into middle distance, nodding thoughtfully. “I am going to do…”

 

Pidge and Hunk looked at him expectantly.

 

“... nothing.”

 

_ “Lance,” _ they groaned in unison.

 

He held his hands up. “Okay, wrong answer, geez.”

 

Pidge pointed at him with a cookie, which was not terribly intimidating. “You need to talk to him.”

 

“What? No. Why?”

 

“Because,” Pidge said, taking a bite, “it’s the only way to actually figure out how Keith feels.”

 

Hunk shrugged at Lance’s imploring look. “Yeah, I’m with Pidge on this one.”

 

“But I don’t  _ wanna  _ talk,” Lance whined, flopping over onto his side. “It  _ sucks.” _

 

“Oh, come on,” Pidge snorted. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

Lance raised his eyebrows at the ceiling. “Keith laughs in my face and then a meteor hits the Earth and we’re miraculously the only ones who survive and I’m stuck for the rest of my miserable life with the guy who doesn’t even like me and I’m hopelessly in lo--  _ like  _ with?”

 

“Wow,” Hunk said after a beat, “that is truly the worst.”

 

“I  _ know.” _

 

“In  _ like  _ with, huh?” Pidge asked, a slow, evil grin spreading across her face.

 

He pointed at her, warningly. “Do not.”

 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “Seriously, though, Keith isn’t going to laugh at you. He’s not that kind of guy.”

 

“What if he is, though?”

 

“Lance.” Hunk was gentle, but reproachful. “You  _ know  _ Keith. Would he really do that?”

 

Lance hesitated before admitting, “No.”

 

“So  _ talk to him,”  _ Pidge urged. “He’s clearly not going to do it, the idiot.” She muttered that last part.

 

His anxieties ran circles around his head for a long minute before he finally sighed, “Okay.”

 

Hunk cheered, and Pidge blew out a long, relieved sigh. “Good.”

 

“But not-- not right now,” Lance hedged. Keith’s back, vanishing into the house as he left him sitting out there on the patio, flashed through his mind.

 

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. “But soon?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go as he sat up and clapped his hands. “Now, who’s up for a movie marathon?”

 

Hunk’s eyes lit up. “What do you have in mind?”

 

“Something dumb with lots of over-the-top special effects and terrible dialogue.”

 

_ “The Matrix?” _

 

“I love you.”

 

Hunk gave him a quick, one-armed hug before he stood. “Back atcha, dude.”

 

Pidge crawled onto the couch, piling their throw blankets and pillows into a comfortable nest, as Lance pushed the coffee table back into place and Hunk set the movie up.

 

Yawning, Lance plopped down on the couch, taking the blanket Pidge handed him. “Thanks, Pidge,” he said, softly, ruffling her hair.

 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s your blanket.”

 

He hadn’t been talking about that, and they both knew it, but he rolled his eyes theatrically and let it go, grinning as she laughed. It felt good to smile again.

 

***

 

Turns out, being sandwiched between your two best friends under a mountain of blankets after a sleepless night and a really good cry was the perfect recipe for knocking the fuck out. 

 

Lance woke up as Pidge crawled back into her spot next to him, raising his head blearily. “Wha’time ‘s it?”

 

“Like, six,” she replied. “We moved to  _ Battlestar Galactica.” _

 

Lance nodded, head still fuzzy. “Oh. Good.”

 

“Mmhm.” She tossed him an amused look. “You alright over there?”

 

He dropped his head back down to his pillow. “Sleepy.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

He opened his eyes after a second, frowning down at the empty end of the couch. “Where’s Hunk?”

 

“He went to go get food. Thai,” she said in answer to his unspoken question.

 

“Ooh, did you get me--”

 

“Fried rice, yep.” She grinned down at him. “Any complaints?”

 

“Never, you beautiful psychic angel.” Lance stretched his arms towards her in a loose hug. Pidge huffed, but allowed it, looping an arm around his shoulder.

 

He dozed for another second before saying, “Hey, Pidge?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why are you so sure Keith likes me?”

 

She shifted, and he looked up to see a little frown settle onto her face. “I don’t know. Same way I knew you liked him even when you were trying to deny it so hard. Something about the way he talks to you, looks at you…” She trailed off. “I don’t know, I can just tell.”

 

Lance hummed in thought. “I wish I could tell,” he murmured after a second.

 

Pidge squeezed him gently. “That’s why you gotta ask him, man.”

 

He nodded, decisively. “Okay. I will.”

 

***

 

Lance stared up at the Pizza Planet sign. “I can’t do this.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Hunk soothed, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, this morning you were so ready for this.”

 

“Yeah, I was. Key term being  _ was.  _ Now I’m standing here and realizing that this was actually a terrible idea and I should have run away to Canada when I had the chance.”

 

“Okay, well, one, we’re sitting in the van, you’re not standing, and two, running from your problems doesn’t solve them.”

 

Groaning, Lance pitched forward to prop his head in his hands, elbows on the dashboard. “Why must you be so  _ logical?” _

 

“It’s all for your own good,” Hunk replied cheerfully. “Now, you can sit in here and wallow if you want, but I’m cold. Also, I don’t want to be late.” With that, he popped his door open and climbed out.

 

Lance scowled as the van rocked with the slam of the door. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He could still call in sick and just… Leave. Never come back. Never have to look Keith Kogane in the stupidly pretty face ever again. Never have to open his mouth and say the words, “Hey, what did you mean when you kissed me two days ago? Because it turns out I’m actually disgustingly in love with you.”

 

Oh, yeah, that was a new and fun realization. He was in  _ love  _ with Keith. It wasn’t a word he’d ever used before, at least not seriously, but he just  _ knew.  _ This wasn’t one of the million crushes he flitted between, most only with the lifespan of a single conversation.

 

No, this was deep and slow and fucking--  _ monumental,  _ or something. Of course it was love. It was the only thing that could suck this fucking much.

 

Hunk knocked on his window. “Hey, I know I said you can sit here, but I didn’t actually mean that. Come on.”

 

He opened the door, and Lance slid out unwillingly. “I hate this.”

 

“I know.” Hunk locked the van and followed him to the door of the Planet, where Lance paused, clenching his fists.

 

“I  _ hate  _ this.” Hunk patted him again, and Lance took a deep breath. “But fuck it, right?”

 

Before he could lose his courage, he yanked the door open and marched in.

 

The daytime employees looked up at his dramatic entrance, and Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, but there was a conspicuous lack of Keith in the room.

 

“Uhh.” Lance took a second to reboot his brain and tried for a casual wave. “Hi.”

 

Pidge slapped her hand over her face.

 

He barely heard as Hunk exchanged brief greetings with the day employees, retrieving his apron from under the counter and fumbling with the strings with shaking fingers. It was cool. It was cool, it was chill, he could do this. This was just another night at work. A night where he could confess his love to his coworker who may or may not return his feelings. Cool. He was cool.

 

The door rang and his head snapped up so fast he just about gave himself whiplash. It was just the day employees leaving. He groaned, slumping down to sprawl across the counter.

 

Pidge pulled herself up to sit next to him. “So  _ you’re  _ doing well, I see.”

 

“I can’t do this.”

 

“Sure you can, it’ll be easy.”

 

He turned his head to give her an incredulous stare. “No, it won’t.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Not with that attitude.”

 

Lance flipped her off, resting his forehead against the counter again.

 

“That’s the spirit.”

 

He opened his mouth to snap something back at her, probably an incredibly creative “fuck off,” but the door dinged again and he stiffened. Pidge, to her credit, sounded totally normal as she said, “Hey, Keith.”

 

Lance couldn’t resist; he lifted his head just enough to peek out at him.

 

Logically, he knew Keith looked the same-- messy hair, dumb fingerless gloves, a hoodie and jacket layered over his Planet t-shirt, all familiar and unremarkable.

 

But now he couldn’t even hope to stomp down the rush of butterflies in his stomach as his gaze lingered on that thin frame and those dark, glaring eyes--

 

Wait a second. Glaring?

 

Their gazes only locked for a second before Keith was breaking away, turning his attention on Pidge. “Hey. Happy New Year.”

 

With that, he brushed by them on his way to the kitchen, and even though his disregard was cool at best Lance felt frozen solid.

 

“Oh, Christ,” Pidge muttered.

 

The phone rang before he could reply. He answered it mechanically, feeling a little bit like he was viewing his life from underwater.

 

By the time he finished, Keith was already sweeping out of the Planet without so much as a backward glance. Lance stared after him. Out of everything he expected, fearing, hoped for, whatever,  _ this  _ had somehow never factored into it. Keith was shutting him out.

 

He realized, belatedly, that someone was saying his name, and he turned to see Pidge watching him with worried eyes. “What?”

 

“He’s just being angsty, Lance, come on. He’ll get over it. This doesn’t mean anything.”

 

He nodded, jerky and wordless.

 

“It just means you  _ really  _ have to talk to him, okay?”

 

Pidge said it so  _ easily,  _ like that hadn’t just become the most impossible task in the world, but Lance nodded again anyways, gave her the numb agreement she was looking for. 

 

Because, really, at this point, what else could he do?

 

***

 

Keith did not get over it. Every time he was in the Planet for the rest of the night, he was either in the kitchen, checking on orders, or in the corner booth, headphones on and blatantly ignoring anyone’s attempts to draw him into conversation.

 

Not Lance’s attempts, of course, because he’d made exactly none. Keith had barely even  _ looked  _ at him most of the night, and when he did, it was with this aloof, distant look, like Lance was some kind of stranger. No, worse-- it was the way he looked at Lance right after he started working. Before they’d become friends.

 

The only time they talked was when Lance had questions about delivery runs or times or how long until his next trip-- only work stuff. And Keith only replied in as short of sentences as possible.

 

By the time Lance got around to taking his thirty, close to midnight, his nerves felt practically fried.

 

It was probably a stupid idea to add a RedBull to that, but he needed the caffeine. He wasn’t going to make it through the night if he was tired on top of everything else.

 

The bar was surprisingly busy for the day after a holiday, but it was a Saturday, so he supposed it made sense. Still, it took a couple minutes for one of the guys to work their way over to him. Lance took the chance to sit and just stare at the bar top for a minute, trying to figure out what the fuck was going  _ on.  _

 

He was so spaced out, it took him a second to notice the presence standing in front of him. Shiro looked back at him, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Lance’s stomach dropped at that.

 

“Uh,” he started, barely audible over the noise, “hey.”

 

Shiro’s face creased a little more, and Lance suddenly realized he was  _ concerned,  _ not angry. For some reason, it just about brought him to tears. “Hey. How you doing?”

 

Swallowing hard, Lance took a beat to compose himself as he wiggled a hand in the air. “Eh. I’ve had better days.”

 

Shiro looked entirely unconvinced by his false bravado. “I’m sure. You wanna talk about it?”

 

Lance hesitated, but shook his head. That would be a bad idea; after all, Shiro was Keith’s brother. “Nah. Can I just get a RedBull?”

 

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

 

“It’s either that or I have a breakdown, so.”

 

Shiro frowned, even as he leaned under the bar to grab the drink for him. “What’s going on?”

 

Lance huffed a laugh. “Nothing, man. Just-- nothing.”

 

There was a long moment where Lance just sat there while Shiro studied him, before he asked, “You have feelings for him?”

 

Lance pressed his balled-up fists into his eyes, giving a tiny, helpless nod. So much for not telling him anything, but at this point, he was too exhausted to even try to deny it.

 

“You should tell him.”

 

“I  _ tried,”  _ Lance burst. “Or, I was  _ going  _ to try. But now he’s barely even  _ looking  _ at me. Like, whoop, I was good for one stupid kiss and now I mean  _ fucking nothing.” _

 

The group of coeds next to him exchanged glances as they moved further down the bar. Lance didn’t even care, he just rubbed at his eyes again, trying to soothe his mounting headache.

 

Shiro’s warm hand rested on his shoulder, and Lance looked up at him. “Lance, I’m sorry. Keith doesn’t always... handle things well. But you should still tell him how you feel.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Lance muttered, sliding off his stool and grabbing his drink, “you have to actually be  _ talking  _ to someone for that.”

 

He didn’t wait for Shiro’s reply, just stalked out of the bar and back to the Planet.

 

Hunk looked up from the register with a worried frown as he came in. “Hey, man, you still got fifteen minutes left.”

 

“Didn’t feel like playing Galaga tonight,” Lance muttered, throwing himself down in the corner booth. Keith was gone, which was probably good-- Lance needed a breather. Fuck, he needed a full six-month paid sabbatical in a foreign country, but he would take what he could get.

 

He pointedly didn’t look up from his mindless Twitter scrolling as Pidge sat down across from him. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

She sighed. “Lance, look, I know this whole thing is a shitty mess of a situation, but you can’t get--”

 

“What?” he snapped. “Angry? Frustrated? Fucking-- heartbroken or some stupid shit like that? Don’t worry, Pidge--” he rose to his feet and stomped over to the jukebox-- “I would have had to actually  _ care  _ about Keith in the first place for any of that.”

 

She didn’t say anything, just slipped off back to whisper something to Hunk behind the counter as he jammed a quarter into the slot. And Lance didn’t care, he  _ did not.  _ Everything was fucking fine. 

 

He selected the Clash with a little more aggression than strictly called for, throwing himself down into the booth again as the opening riff of “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” echoed through the restaurant.

 

It was amazing how fast his life had gone from relatively fine to fucking garbage. Man, he hated New Year’s.

 

***

 

Lance slammed the register drawer closed and locked it for the night. One more chance, he decided.  _ One  _ more. It wouldn’t be the second or the third, it was going to be, like, the  _ ninth,  _ but he’d give it to Keith anyways. Fuck, at this point, he was pretty sure there wasn’t much of anything he  _ wouldn’t  _ give Keith if he asked.

 

The asking was the problem.

 

They hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of terse words since Lance’s break, and a heavy, uncomfortable silence had fallen over the whole Planet. For the first time in he didn’t even know how long, he hadn’t put on “Final Countdown” once the bar rush was over and Pidge was on her way out. He honestly didn’t think he could take it tonight.

 

Grabbing the bottle of bleach where he’d left it on the counter, he stormed by the conspicuously occupied booth in the corner without so much as a glance, shoving it into its place in the bathroom.

 

He’d never missed Rollo as much as he did right then. The thought made him vaguely nauseous.

 

By the time he got back out to the front, Hunk was standing by the register, giving Lance a questioning look. He shook his head, short and sharp. Hunk’s concern was nice, really, but right then, Lance just wanted to be left alone.

 

Clearing his throat, Hunk said, “It’s, like, thirty seconds til four, so…”

 

Silently, Keith rose from his spot in the corner as Lance wadded up his apron and threw it under the counter. Hunk led the way into the night air, and they lingered as he locked the front door. As soon as he turned, though, Keith gave them a brief nod and turned towards his car. “Night.”

 

Lance swallowed hard and gathered up his last shred of courage. “Keith, wait.” Hunk squeezed his elbow on his way by to the van, and Lance focused on the warmth of that little gesture as he took a deep, steadying breath and dragged his gaze to Keith.

 

Who stared back at him with impassive thundercloud eyes as they rested on Lance’s frozen form.

 

“What?”

 

He felt something crack inside him, between his ribs. “Nice mullet,” he snapped, pivoting and stalking after Hunk.

 

He didn’t look back as he walked away. He didn’t look back as he got in the van. He didn’t look back as Hunk silently pulled the car out of the parking lot.

 

He never wanted to see Keith’s face ever again.

 

***

 

Hunk only got halfway through the ride home before he started to chatter. Lance barely listened, slumped in his seat, staring out the window at the darkened city. This whole situation was so  _ stupid.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

But if it was dumb and pointless then why did it hurt so much?

 

He realized, belatedly, that Hunk had stopped talking and was giving him a worried look. “What?”

 

Hunk repeated himself patiently. “How are you doing?” 

 

Lance thought for a second before giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Been better.”

 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Hunk sighed.

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Lance wondered, turning away from the window to shoot him a look. “It’s not anyone’s fault. Well, it’s  _ one  _ person’s fault, but ironically, that’s the one person I know who  _ hasn’t _ apologized to me in the last twenty-four hours! So, you know,” he turned back to the window, dropping his chin into the palm of his hand, “I’m great.”

 

Hunk didn’t say anything, and the silence crept back in for the last couple minutes of their drive. As they pulled into the garage and Hunk parked, Lance let out a deep sigh.

 

“Buddy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep going all angsty teenager on you.”

 

“No, no no no, you’re fine,” Hunk insisted. “I just wish there was something I could  _ do.” _

 

Lance smiled at that, and he knew it was probably tired and crooked but it still felt good. “Hey, you made me cookies. That’s pretty far up there.”

 

As they climbed out of the van and headed towards the stairwell, Lance said, “I forgot to ask, how did things go with Shay?”

 

Hunk lit up like a damn Christmas tree, talking and gesturing excitedly as they climbed the stairs. Most of it slid by Lance, but he caught enough to gather it had gone well, and he smiled to himself as he followed Hunk up. Hunk deserved a cute relationship with a sweet girl who liked him. 

 

He tried his hardest to not be jealous of that.

 

When they got inside, Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go to bed, I’m tired as hell.”

 

Hunk nodded instantly, patting him on the back in return. “Sure, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

As soon as Lance closed the door behind himself, he sagged back against it. The night had been fucking draining, and he honestly didn’t even know where to start with untangling the messy knot of emotions caught in his chest, so he mechanically got himself ready for bed and crawled under his blankets, turning to stare blankly up at the ceiling.

 

He didn’t know why Keith was acting like they were strangers. He didn’t know why he had kissed him. Fuck, he didn’t even know why he  _ cared  _ so much.

 

All he knew was that it felt like Keith had ripped the armor off his weakest spot and then stabbed him.

 

And like a wound, it was starting to fester.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing now, as I post this, that I didn't answer comments AGAIN, cuz I SUCK. But there was a lot happening all at once there for a bit. Just know that they were all immensely appreciated and if I get my shit together (unlikely) I will answer them.
> 
> Anyway, after getting twenty four hours of sleep in two days, I finally got this baby done. YAY. It probably deserves a bit of an apology as well, but like, it could be worse?
> 
> We love you all. Thank you so much for the love. It's beautiful and inspiring.
> 
> As for Camille, I miss the shit out of you and I thought I'd just tell you here, too.

“Nice mullet.”

 

Then Lance turned his back and the words echoed. Keith could feel his face crumple, his only goddamn defense left. If Lance turned and looked at him right now, he would see everything, but Keith wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. The vitriol in his voice had been pretty convincing.

 

When, five seconds earlier, it had been “Keith, wait.”

 

God, the things his heart had done when he’d heard that. Those two words had been enough for him to question every assumption he’d made at the New Year’s party. 

 

They were still enough. Lance cared about something. Keith couldn’t be sure what—maybe he really was that angry that Keith had done something so goddamn stupid and fucked a rather fantastic friendship—but maybe he was angry that Keith had kissed him and then explained nothing. Maybe the explanation was important to him because Keith wasn’t alone in what he felt, an assumption he’d been almost positive of before that disastrous kiss.

 

Maybe it was one giant misunderstanding.

 

Or maybe it wasn’t. Never had he wanted inside someone’s head so badly before.

 

“Fuck,” Keith mumbled. He kept up the string of curse words as he drove home, not bothering with music. This was something music couldn’t fix. This was, in fact, only something he could fix. And that was unfortunate. Keith was not good at fixing things. 

 

But one thing had become very clear when Lance had glared at him, a similar expression to when they’d first met, except with the added awareness that he wasn’t in the wrong. Keith valued Lance’s company and friendship more than the his own feelings. 

 

He had to fix it. Somehow.

 

Unlocking the door to the apartment, Keith stepped in, yawning. This was too much to think about this early. Still, it wasn’t like he was going to get sleep. He should probably just make himself a cup of cocoa, grab a book, and get settled for what little remained of the night. All he could count on was getting so tired that he fell asleep halfway through a page.

 

What he didn’t count on was turning around from shutting the door and seeing Shiro still up. When they met gazes and Shiro raised his eyebrows, Keith knew he was in trouble. God, Keith hated when he frowned like that. Shiro didn’t wear disappointment often, but when he did, it worked, Keith stuck in the headlights.

 

“You’re up,” he mumbled, heading into the kitchen. There wasn’t anything he wanted in particular, but he needed to do something with his hands and find a way to avoid Shiro’s eyes.

 

“Lance looked pretty beat up tonight.”

 

Keith hummed, wincing internally.

 

“Said you weren’t talking to him, actually.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Sounds a lot like you.”

 

Sighing, Keith finally picked a mug and set about heating milk. “What do you want from me, Shiro?”

 

“I’d like it if you looked at me.”

 

“No thanks,” Keith whispered.

 

There was rustling from the couch and Keith closed his eyes. Before Shiro reached him, he said, “I know I’m being an asshole, okay? But I can’t… I can’t fucking look at him without thinking about the kiss, thinking about what he’s thinking, thinking that I messed everything up. How was I supposed to talk to him? Words and I don’t get along. Ever.”

 

Hands landed on his shoulders and spun him around. Keith didn’t open his eyes. Shiro tugged him gently into his chest and hugged him. “Any words would’ve been better than what you did.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Why do you make everything so difficult for yourself?”

 

There were hundreds of answers to that, some much too revealing, some diving down to the very center of who Keith was. Instead of picking one, he simply shrugged, on the edge of tears. “What’s it matter? If he didn’t hate me already, he definitely does now.”

 

“No. He doesn’t.”

 

“You didn’t see his face.”

 

“No, I didn’t. But he doesn’t hate you.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled, thinking that was probably true. Honestly, that made it even worse. Lance should hate him. He deserved it. Somehow, that would make things easier.

 

“Be brave.”

 

“Showing up to work was brave.”

 

“He showed up, too.”

 

Removing himself from Shiro’s arms, Keith whispered, “I’m going to bed.” And he did, but as predicted, he didn’t sleep. He stayed up, listening to music and daydreaming, allowing himself countless visions of him coming into the Planet on a metaphorical white horse and wooing the boy with confidence and a smoothness that was entirely unlike him and much more like Lance.

 

By dawn, Keith had a plan. One that was bound to fail, because he was about eighty percent sure he couldn’t execute it, and fifty percent sure that even if he could, it wouldn’t matter. But it was a plan. He would be doing something. And that was what really mattered. Because when it really came down to it, Keith wasn’t someone who could just watch the goddamn world end. No. The world was going to watch him burn out first.

 

***

 

When it was time to head to work, Keith was so tired that he was convinced he shouldn’t be driving. A part of him was urging him to call in, offer the legitimate excuse he had-- hopefully avoiding the heartbreak that explained the lack of sleep-- but the other part of him knew how Lance would see it. How they would all see it. He’d already done his ignoring. More would not help.

 

But then he entered the Planet and he changed his mind. His fingers were itching to take his phone out of his pocket and call, however dramatic, just to say that he was going to leave. It didn’t seem to matter that he was already in the building. Besides, it was probably the only way he was going to get Lance to talk to him directly. A surprise attack.

 

“Total Eclipse of the Heart” was playing. Pidge and Hunk were crowded around Lance, providing a barrier. 

 

It was obvious what that barrier was saying. 

 

Maybe he hadn’t lost all of his friends forever, but for now, he’d as good as.

 

It was too bad, really. They would’ve all been surprised that Keith actually knew this song. It made sense, though. They’d been Lance’s friends first. And Lance was almost definitely a better friend.

 

Figuring a ‘hello’ would seem out of place, Keith found a booth, sunk into the seat, and laid his head on his arms and closed his eyes. His plan was very low on his list of things to do now. It was stupid, anyway. Lance would just be irritated and not understand Keith spoke better through actions. Sleep was much higher, along with avoiding everyone’s gaze.

 

Above him, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

 

“What?” Keith mumbled into his arms, uninterested in looking up.

 

“You look terrible,” Pidge said.

 

“Yeah, well…”

 

“Did you sleep?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Should you be driving?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Why are you here, then?”

 

“Great fucking question,” Keith grumbled. “I should probably just quit, shouldn’t I? God, why wasn’t that my first thought? That should’ve been plan A.”

 

“I didn’t mean it…”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

“What is plan A?” Pidge asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“He’s a wreck, you know. Why did you…”

 

“Pidge, if you’re here to interrogate me or to tell me that ignoring him was the stupidest thing in the world, I have no interest and I already know.” Finally looking up at her, trying to ignore the pain tingeing her eyes, Keith said, “Just pretend I’m not here, okay? I’m good at being invisible. I’ve done it most of my life.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pidge said, “Whose goddamn fault is that?”

 

“Mine, I’m sure.”

 

It wasn’t a surprise when she walked away, muttering something to herself. As he watched, it did make Keith wonder if it wasn’t the people who left, but him. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered, but he’d managed to convince himself recently that he’d just been hanging out with the wrong people.

 

It was going to be a long shift.

 

***

 

Halfway through the night, he was downright miserable. Returning to what he had decided was  _ his _ booth, Keith rested his chin on his hand and stared at Lance, who was answering phones and doing a good job of seeming bright and excited.  _ Seeming _ was definitely the imperative word, however, and usually it wasn’t something he had to do. Normally, he breathed brightness.

 

But then Lance hung up and caught Keith’s eye and Keith forgot all about being miserable. Some of the faux happiness lingered in his blue eyes and Keith held onto it until it was gone, replaced by something unrecognizable but not pleasant.

 

Frankly, it wasn’t nice constantly being reminded of the shit he’d pulled.

 

Sighing, he rose, walked up to the counter, making sure to keep his eyes focused on his feet, and grabbed the rag Lance kept there to wipe down tables with. Now was better than never to try plan A. Slowly and methodically, he worked his way around the room, wiping each table, making sure to get the cheap vinyl of the booths as well. He could feel more than one pair of eyes on him as he worked, but he didn’t bother checking. This was something he would prefer not be commented on.

 

When he finished, he took a deep breath and then turned to Lance, Pidge right beside him, the both of them staring. Rolling the rag up into a ball, he tossed it at Lance, who caught it with only a small fumble. Neither of them said anything and Keith thought about explaining himself, how the tables were a bit dirty and he’d only wanted to help, that it was his way of showing he cared, but he knew which part of that explanation Lance would get attached to and he didn’t need Lance to be more mad at him.

 

It seemed, though, that a fight was inevitable. Because Lance had found his voice. “Doing my job now, asshole?”

 

Well, there went that idea. “I was just trying to help.”

 

“I don’t need your help.”

 

“So I can’t be nice now?”

 

“When have you ever been nice?” Lance asked, glaring.

 

“I’m nice!” Keith said. Then he glanced down at his feet and mumbled, “Sometimes.”

 

“You know…” Pidge began, but they both cut her off with a glare and she raised her hands in the air, retreating into the kitchen where she mumbled something to Hunk. The look on his face was one of weary acceptance and Keith knew they’d anticipated this. It looked as though he wasn’t going to break out of the cycle like he’d hoped.

 

“Well, don’t do my job again.”

 

“Fine,” Keith snapped. “Feel free to do mine, because obviously you can just do it all yourself.”

 

“We did manage before you got here.”

 

“Pidge was answering phones!”

 

“She’s better at it than you!”

 

“Of course she is,” Keith said. “Everyone is better at answering phones than me. But that’s not my goddamn job, is it? I drive a car. They leave the phone to you for a reason. You’re like…”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know. Charismatic and extroverted and personable or whatever.”

 

Lance didn’t seem to know what to say to that. For a moment, he was frozen, and then he threw the rag onto the counter and stalked over to the jukebox, put in a quarter, and started playing something Keith didn’t know. Lance knew it, though. Well, judging by just how loud he was singing along to it.

 

Returning to his booth, Keith felt something bubbling underneath his skin. He didn’t examine it too hard, but he made note of it.

 

***

 

It was close to two and Keith had just gotten back from a delivery. His eyes felt like sandpaper, he was having trouble focusing on anything for more than five seconds total, and since Hunk had actually grasped his shoulder and asked if he was okay, he figured he looked like shit too.

 

Collapsing into his booth and tugging his hat down over his eyes, Keith remembered when Lance was sick awhile back and how everyone had been begging him to go home.

 

No one was doing the same for him. Course, that was his fault, wasn’t it?

 

“You are an idiot,” Lance’s voice said above him.

 

Startling, Keith’s hat fell to the floor and he bolted up, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at Lance. “Huh?”

 

“You were talking to yourself. About being an idiot. I was just agreeing.”

 

“Was I?”

 

There was a flicker of something in Lance’s face, but it quickly disappeared. Nudging Keith with his foot, he said, “Get out, I need to wipe this down. I wanna sweep. Which means I need all of the dirt to be on the floor.”

 

“I’ll just go lie there, then.”

 

At that, Lance smiled. When he realized what he was doing, he tried to fight it away, but he couldn’t. Keith didn’t smile back, somehow knowing that would ruin everything, but he felt a small wave of pride. Slipping out of the booth, he went to the counter and sat on top of it, watching Lance work his way around the floor, bopping his head to the music and singing. There wasn’t any dancing. Keith wondered if, by the end of the night, he could get Lance to dance.

 

Because a new plan was forming. A much better one. In fact, it was a wonder he hadn’t come up with it earlier.

 

Bickering was the first thing they’d been good at and Lance could never resist being dragged in. There wasn’t anything guaranteeing it would fix a goddamn thing, but Keith was pretty sure he’d fucked it enough that there wasn’t a sane way back. At least they’d be talking.

 

“What even is this song?” Keith asked nonchalantly.

 

Lance stopped sweeping, took a deep breath, and then continued. Letting the silence linger, Keith waited patiently, which took a lot of effort on his part.

 

Finally, to Keith’s relief--it meant his plan had a chance--Lance said, “How the hell do you not know ‘Maneater’? You’ve led a very tragic life.”

 

“I don’t know. Nothing in that jukebox has convinced me the eighties were anything special.”

 

“Oh yeah? I’m gonna make you eat those words.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Lance wandered to the jukebox and turned his glare to it. Pidge came back out of the kitchen and joined Keith on the counter. Curiously, she whispered, “How are you doing it?”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“He was kind of determined not to talk to you.”

 

“Figures,” Keith mumbled.

 

HItting him, she said, “Answer my question.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I’ll keep hitting you.”

 

“He doesn’t really back down from a challenge,” Keith said.

 

For awhile, Pidge considered that answer. Then, she said, “Oh my god, you’re actually insane. He’s going to murder you.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you have a death wish.”

 

A song started to play and Lance said, “There you go, Mullet.”

 

Listening, Keith realized he actually recognized this one. From somewhere. It took him almost half the song to realize from where. “This is from that wallflower movie, isn’t it?”

 

Pidge snorted. “You saw that?”

 

“Emma Watson was in it,” Keith mumbled. “I was raised on Harry Potter, you know, like every other kid our age.”

 

Waving a hand, declaring that line of conversation unimportant, Lance said, “I know you like it.”

 

“Do not,” Keith said.

 

“Yeah, you do. I can tell. Your face is doing a...thing.”

 

“Really descriptive.”

 

Flipping him off, Lance went back to sweeping, movements jerky. As the song came to a close, Keith said, “Yeah, alright. That one was pretty good.”

 

Lance’s head snapped up. “I knew it!”

 

“From the  _ thing _ my face was doing.”

 

“Listen, Mullet, your face has a total of three expressions. You can’t even read it like a book, it’s more of a pamphlet.”

 

“If it was a pamphlet, then you’d be able to…”

  
“What?”

 

Keith closed his eyes and slid down from the counter. “Nothing,” he said. Had that been the opportunity he was looking for? Probably. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance said shortly. “Nothing.”

 

Okay. Definitely.

 

Returning to his booth, Keith waited for Hunk to tell him there were more orders to be delivered. 

 

***

 

By three-thirty, Keith was praying for the sweet release of death. There was a sharp pain behind his eyes and Lance had gone back to firm glares, stopping whatever words in their tracks. At this point, Keith was just waiting to go home. Shiro and Matt had come in when they’d closed for the night and it was the first time the Planet had felt normal all night, full of laughter and jeering. Of course, Keith hadn’t participated, too worn and frayed, and Shiro had been the only who’d noticed. He’d been relatively sympathetic, but as he’d left, he’d given Keith that disappointed dad look.

 

“Oh fuck it,” he mumbled, standing and heading for the counter. “Do you guys need me for the rest of the night?” he asked Hunk and Lance. “Because if you don’t, I’m going home. I literally can’t see straight.”

 

“And you’re going to drive?” Hunk asked worriedly.

 

“Gotta get home and I don’t expect to be offered a ride. Besides, I’ve been driving all night and I didn’t kill anybody.”

 

Wincing, Hunk glanced piteously at Lance, who pretended he hadn’t noticed. Instead, he said, “We don’t need you.”

 

“Great. I’ll, uh…whatever.”

 

“Bye, Keith,” Hunk said. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah.” Shooting Hunk a small smile, he clocked out and left, shrugging his jacket close and heading for his car. He hadn’t really thought about quitting his job at the Planet, but maybe he should. The period of time he could keep this up was limited. Watching as his friendships slowly disintegrated was not something he could do. Keith preferred leaving before anyone else did it to him.

 

But he was also stubborn and it seemed too early to give up.

 

When he reached his car, he leaned his head against the hood, the cool metal easing some of the pain in his head. Shutting his eyes, he murmured, “Get your shit together, Kogane. Shit. Together. Okay? Okay.” 

 

“You forgot your hat.”

 

Letting out a low breath, Keith swiveled to see Lance, who was dangling Keith’s hat on his index finger.

 

“Oh. Thanks.”

 

“Lots of talking to yourself tonight.”

 

“Yes, Lance, it’s because I’m insane. Impressed you finally noticed.” Grabbing his hat, Keith made sure there wasn’t a car coming and then headed out into the road, and opening the door to the driver’s side. Curious if Lance was still there, Keith glanced up before he got in and saw that Lance was. “What?”

 

“You really can’t see straight?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Sighing, Lance walked to him and grabbed the collar of his jacket, tugging him back towards the Planet. Too exhausted to protest, Keith simply wrenched his jacket out from underneath Lance’s grip and followed. Pointing to a booth, Lance said, “Sit. We’ll drive you home.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Take a nap or something.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Biting down on his lip, Lance lingered for a second and then shook his head lightly, going back to work. It was the first time today Keith had genuinely felt a wealth of unsaid words and emotions between them, felt that kind of tension in the air. Lance was feeling something besides anger.

 

His eyelids drooped.

 

God, this was stupid. It was all so fucking stupid.

 

That was his last thought before he was out.

 

***

 

He woke to blue eyes and harsh jabs. Whacking away Lance’s hand, Keith yawned and rubbed his eyes, stretching his arms above his head. Then he groaned and fell back onto his arms. The table wasn’t the most comfortable but he’d been able to sleep there and honestly, abandoning what worked seemed like a bad idea.

 

“Hunk, please. Carry him,” Lance said, the words slightly slurred once they found their way into Keith’s brain.

 

“I don’t know, man. Feels like he should consent to that.”

 

“But I want to go home,” Lance whined and Keith woke slightly. That was the Lance he knew and god, had he missed him.

 

“I’m up,” Keith mumbled, blinking slowly and reacquainting himself with his surroundings. 

 

“Oh, thank god,” Hunk said.

 

“I’m going…” Keith yawned. “… To need a second.” More than a second, probably. He had no idea what was going on, not really. It felt like it could’ve been the middle of the day. Or literal years from whenever he’d fallen asleep. Never in his life had Keith been more aware that time wasn’t real.

 

“Sure thing, buddy.”

 

“You look like shit,” Lance said.

 

“Thanks. Feel like it too.”

 

“You’re gonna sleep tonight, right?” Hunk said. “I don’t need to lie awake worrying about you, man.”

 

“Just did, didn’t I?”

 

“That is  _ really  _ not convincing.”

 

“I’m fine,” Keith said, because those words made sense. Those words always made sense. They were also untrue. There were so many things that were wrong right now. Mainly, that he was awake.

 

Above him, Lance and Hunk were murmuring things. Then Hunk said, “I’m gonna go warm up the car, okay? Pull it up front. Lance is gonna make sure you get there.”

 

“Or murder me. The Planet’s a pretty good place to hide a body.”

 

“Don’t encourage him.”

 

Lance said something, but after the words ‘oh my god,’ Keith lost track of what Lance was saying, too interested in the cadence and warmth of his voice. Smiling, Keith let his eyes fall closed again—it was basically gravity at this point. But then Lance stopped talking and Keith whined softly. It was like his own personal version of white noise, perfect to fall asleep to, and now it was gone.

 

Then it was back. “Jesus, I can’t even believe I’m doing this,” Lance mumbled, grabbing one of Keith’s arms and hauling him out of the booth. He slung one of Keith’s arms over his shoulder. “You know, you’re kind of heavy. Can’t you help?”

 

Nodding, Keith stood up as best he could while still leaning into Lance. Sighing, he whispered, “You smell good.”

 

“I  _ smell--?  _ Alright. That’s nice.”

 

“Like, really good. How do you always smell so good?”

 

“Well, it’s a process, Mullet. There’s…wait, no. Nonono. I’m not doing this.”

 

Those words were like smelling salts. Nodding, Keith unslung his arm from around Lance’s shoulders, and shoved both of his hands into his pockets. It took him a moment to find his feet, but when he did, he headed for the door. Once it was open, he held it for Lance, waiting in silence as Lance locked up.

 

Hunk was right ahead of them, the car idling, and Lance didn’t look back as he walked towards it. Steeling himself, riding on the idiocy of someone who hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep and who was incredibly disoriented from an untimely nap, Keith said, “Lance, wait.”

 

Lance came to a halt. Slowly, he turned and raised his eyebrows.

 

God, no wonder Lance was so upset at him. It was hard to say anything at all when someone was being so unresponsive. 

 

“I’m, uh…I’m sorry. For everything.”

 

“That’s a shitty apology.”

 

“I’m complete shit at them, yeah. Sorry. Again.”

 

“You’re sorry you kissed me, then?”

 

Unsure how exactly to answer that, Keith went with the truth. “Yeah.” And he was. It had caused this rift between them and he’d never wanted that.

 

“Okay,” Lance said, pivoting and hopping into the passenger seat of the van.

 

“Okay,” Keith echoed, getting into the back.

 

As they drove to his apartment, Lance’s response itched at him. That was not what he’d been expecting. That had been too…easy. Well, off. Because it wasn’t easy. Picking at his fingernails, Keith stared at the part of Lance’s head he could see and dwelled.

 

Then, internally, he slapped himself. He was too tired to make any sense out of this. A good night’s sleep was necessary. If he could get one.

 

The radio was quiet and the light was dim, so when Lance blurted, “Okay, I’m sorry, if you regret kissing me so much, then why the hell did you do it?” it was a burst of electricity, of color, and left Keith speechless. “Oh, sure, right, silent and taciturn again. Makes sense. Should’ve seen that coming, Lance.”

 

“I’m not… I just…”

 

“Whatever, Keith.”

 

“Oh my god, would you just…”

 

“Can’t you two do this when I’m not around? And preferably not in a car, where I can’t get away if blows are exchanged? I really don’t want to crash or get hit or die or, frankly, be this involved in your relationship,” Hunk piped up.

 

“What relationship?” Lance scoffed.

 

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Keith said.

 

_ “I’m _ an asshole?”

 

“If we’re talking whys, then why the hell did you just stare at me after I kissed you? Actually, it was worse than that. It was less staring and more abject horror.”

 

“‘Abject?’”

 

“Something, usually negative, experienced to…”

 

“I know what it means, Mullet,” Lance said.

 

“Well, how am I supposed to know? Most people don’t just comment on my vocabulary.”

 

“You guys,” Hunk said, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “This is great. Good. I’m really proud of the communication, however, uh, strange, but can we really please not to do this while I’m here? Please?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry,” Lance said.

 

Grimacing, Keith crossed his arms over his chest and glared out the window. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he was having a hard time not continuing where they’d left off.

 

It wasn’t long before they were in front of his apartment, Hunk probably driving faster than strictly allowed, and Keith got out of the car as quickly as possible, not even bothering to figure out how they were going to get his car back to him, assuming that was something that could wait until tomorrow.

 

But his car door was not the only one to slam. Lance was stalking towards him, eyes fire, and Keith met his gaze with equal fervor. “You know,” Lance said, “I’m pretty sure ‘abject horror’ is still better than  _ ignoring _ me for an entire fucking day.”

 

“What the hell I was supposed to do?”

 

“I don’t know.  _ Talk _ . Like a normal person.”

 

“Does that sound like something I would do?”

 

“It doesn’t matter. You do it anyway.”

 

“Fine,” Keith said. “Agreed. I screwed that up.”

 

“... Oh,” Lance said cautiously. “Alright then. Well, I’ll see you later, I guess. Hunk and I’ll go get your car and drop it off.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“You want to yell at me more? Great. I love being a punching bag.”

 

“No,” Keith said. “We just haven’t figured a goddamn thing out.”

 

Lance’s eyes slid away from him. “There’s nothing  _ to  _ figure out.”

 

At that moment, Keith finally understood what had happened outside the Planet. Blinking at Lance, he said, “How could you be so goddamn stupid?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Jesus, do you know me at all?”

 

“I’ve been asking myself that a lot recently.”

 

“Do you seriously think I just go around kissing anybody?” Keith asked, laughing at the very idea.

 

“What?”

 

“Of course I regret doing it,” Keith said. “You’re one of my best friends. I know, an easy thing to do because I have none, but the point stands. And all I really knew is that I kissed you and we stopped talking and that sucked. Okay? That was the fucking worst. And I know a lot of it is my fault, but god, I was scared. What I don’t understand, though, is how you honestly thought, at any point, that I just kissed you for fun. That’s what you thought, right?”

 

“I’m…”

 

As the words ran back through his head, Keith realized they were perhaps slightly insensitive and disregarding a lot of what he knew about Lance. Reminding himself that he’d been driven here because he hadn’t been trusted to drive himself, Keith said, “Fuck.” Then he rubbed his eyes. “Never mind. I didn’t want to… I’m just gonna go to bed. I’m not… I won’t ignore you if you want to talk about it. Or if you don’t. Whatever.”

 

“I’m… not entirely sure what’s happening right now?” Lance said quietly.

 

“It’s okay. I’m confident that didn’t make any sense. Night, Lance.”

 

“Night. I mean, wait, dude, no, come on, you have to explain now.”

 

“I’m…”

 

“Oh, right, tired.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said.

 

“You should sleep, man.”

 

“Couldn’t last night.”

 

“Oh.” After a pause, Lance said, “Why?”

 

Stepping forward, keeping his eyes steady on Lance’s, making sure he didn’t bolt, Keith leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night,” he said firmly, slipping the keys to his car into Lance’s hand.

 

Lance sounded strangely hoarse when he replied. “You have  _ got  _ to stop doing that.”

 

Turning back to face Lance when he reached the lobby, Keith laughed tiredly. “Does it look like I’m running?”

 

“Guess not. Course, you are sleep deprived, so you might want to later. Like, clearly, you are not…”

 

“ _ Night _ , Lance.”

  
Nodding, Lance waved and hopped into the van, which whipped away into the night. Keith had no idea how that had gone, he couldn’t even really remember what he’d said, and he had no clue what Lance thought about it all, but it felt like he’d achieved  _ something _ and that was enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess we should talk about the elephant in the room, huh?
> 
> yes, it's true, there's only gonna be one more chapter after this. i can't even tell you guys how much bittersweet emotion there is in that for me, so i'm just gonna jump into my thank you's before i shut the lights off on this one.
> 
> first off, to kelly, the red to my blue, the sweet sweet jelly to my crunchy peanut butter: literally not a word of this would have gotten done without you. not a word of a lot of my stuff would have gotten done without you. you're an inspiration, but you're also just a total and utter joy to be around. i miss you fucking _constantly_ , man, it's straight up stupid, but i love you so much it's even stupider. 
> 
> secondly, to every single person who commented, or kudos'd, or has just been silently reading along: i could thank you a million times and it wouldn't be enough. kelly and i might have started this together, but you guys gave us so much drive to keep going, to write as much and as fast as we did. i'm still blown away when i think about it. like i said, it'll never be enough, but let me say it one more time-- thank you. i love every last one of you.
> 
> and don't worry! this won't be the last you'll hear of me. cross my heart. in the meantime, feel free to follow [me](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) and [kelly](http://itsthegameilike.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you like a lotta memes and crying about adulthood.
> 
> now, without further ado... (man, deja vu, anyone?)

Lance stared at Keith’s shrinking figure in the rearview mirror until Hunk turned the corner. 

 

“So,” Hunk started, glancing over at him, “how we doing, buddy?”

 

Lance couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to dig into the tangled mess of what just happened. Keith had seemed angry, but not about what Lance  _ thought  _ he would be angry about, and then he called Lance his  _ best friend--  _ or one of them, whatever-- and then he  _ kissed  _ him.  _ Again.  _ On the cheek, sure, but still. He thought his heart had stopped dead in his chest when Keith leaned in.

 

Basically, he had no idea how to even  _ start.  _ Instead, he slid down in his seat and dragged his hands over his face. “What the  _ fuuuuuuuck.” _

 

“Yeah, I kinda thought it might be something like that.”

 

“What did I ever do in my life to deserve Keith Kogane?” Lance wondered out loud, muffled into his hands.

 

“Are you saying that as a good thing or a bad thing?”

 

“I don’t even  _ know,  _ dude.”

 

“Well,” Hunk said, “I guess that’s progress.”

 

The rest of the drive passed in silence, the last five minutes playing on repeat in Lance’s head, fiddling with the keys Keith had given him as Hunk drove them home.

 

As soon as they walked in the door, though, Lance spun to look at him. “Hunk, buddy, I need you.”

 

Nodding solemnly, Hunk dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. “Spa night?”

 

“Spa night,” Lance confirmed, already heading down the hallway to collect his bucket of face masks and headbands.

 

They settled on the floor in front of the TV. Hunk clicked it on to some old movie channel, letting the sounds of Mechagodzilla fill their apartment as Lance dug through his collection of products, selecting a blue gel mask for himself. “Which one do you want?”

 

Hunk shrugged, grabbing a tube at random. “I dunno. This one?”

 

“Good choice,” Lance replied absently, gesturing him closer. He already had his own headband on, holding his hair back from his face, but he helped Hunk get his on before popping open the tube Hunk had picked and slathering the golden clay mask across his face. “I just don’t get it, man.”

 

Hunk’s eyebrow raised under his hands. “I mean, no offense, buddy, but I don’t know what there is to not get. Keith kissed you on the cheek. That’s  _ two  _ kisses now. You don’t kiss someone twice unless you like them, right?”

 

“I mean,  _ yeah,”  _ Lance conceded, frowning as he squeezed another dollop of mask onto his fingers, “but why does he think I don’t like him? Like, have I  _ ever  _ done anything to make Keith think I wouldn’t like him?”

 

Hunk counted it off on his fingers as he spoke. “Well, you weren’t very nice to him when he started working at the Planet, you freaked out when he kissed you on New Year’s, and, you know, you were pretty pissed at him tonight.”

 

“Of course I was pissed!” Lance threw his hands in the air, tossing the tube aside. “He spent all of last night  _ ignoring  _ me. Even when I tried to talk to him he acted all pissy. Fuck, Hunk, he said he regretted kissing me.”

 

“Yeah, but he didn’t mean it like that, did he?” Hunk pointed out, smearing electric blue gel across Lance’s cheekbones.

 

“Well… no,” Lance admitted, Keith’s fierce glare flashing through his mind.  _ “Do you know me at all?”  _ he’d demanded. There had been sincerity there, close behind the anger, and  _ hurt,  _ too. The truth was, it  _ wasn’t  _ like Keith to kiss someone without it meaning anything. Lance was pretty sure he never did  _ anything  _ without it meaning something, and that brought a fresh wave of guilt as he remembered snapping at Keith earlier for cleaning the tables.

 

He’d just been so-- so  _ frustrated.  _ It wasn’t fair for Keith to act all hurt when he’d shut Lance out in the first place. The anger was fading, though, giving way to regret and confusion and a bone-deep exhaustion. Lance was  _ so tired  _ of all this stupid runaround.

 

Hunk had finished his mask as he’d been thinking, leaning back and wiping his fingers on the washcloth Lance had grabbed from the bathroom. “Keith likes me,” Lance said out loud, trying the words out. It was-- a strange concept, but it felt  _ true. _

 

“I hate to say I told you so…” Hunk trailed off pointedly, but Lance ignored him.

 

“And I like him.”

 

“Again, I don’t want to say it, but. You know.”

 

Lance blew out a sigh, flopping onto his back and stretching his arms out wide. “Hunk, this  _ sucks.” _

 

“I know, man.”

 

“I mean,” Lance started, staring up at the ceiling, “this  _ really  _ sucks. Like, dude, this is some Hallmark movie shit, but I’ve never felt this way about  _ anyone.  _ I  _ really  _ like Keith, you know? He’s just-- It’s like Pidge was saying the other day, about missing someone without realizing it. You hear people talk about  _ the one  _ and all that romantic stuff, and it’s like, I  _ thought  _ I knew what they meant. I thought it was supposed to be some-- I dunno, dumb, electric spark kind of thing, right? Love at first sight. It’s not like that at all.”

 

Hunk hummed an acknowledgement. Lance took it as a sign to continue.

 

“Keith pisses me off sometimes. A  _ lot,  _ actually. He’s stubborn, and short-tempered, and antisocial, and--” Lance struggled to find the right words, spinning his hands in the air--  _ “frustrating.  _ And I like him  _ so much  _ anyways. Is that weird? That can’t be how it’s supposed to be, right?”

 

Another hum from Hunk.

 

“But I can’t-- I can’t imagine my life without him.” Swallowing, Lance dropped his hands back to the floor. “It’s been, like, three days since we’ve talked to each other and I feel like I’m  _ dying.  _ And now it sucks even more because we’re definitely going to have to talk about this and I don’t even know if I want that! I just want things to go back to normal,” he finished in a whine.

 

“Lance.”

 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I’m going to talk to him, I promise. I just hate it. He’s so hard to talk to when he does his whole shutting down thing. Ugh.”

 

“L’nce.”

 

“God, and I’m so  _ dumb  _ for not realizing what that was earlier. Keith always shuts people out when he’s upset or uncomfortable. Fuck, I didn’t mean to upset him. But honestly, what kind of bullshit is it to not give me five seconds to adjust to a world where  _ Keith Kogane kisses me  _ before he just books it?”

 

_ “L’nce.” _

 

“So, really,” Lance said triumphantly, “we both fucked up! This whole mess is not on me. Keith could have just used his words like a  _ human  _ and we would have avoided this whole situation. Heck, we could be together right now, making sweet sweet--”

 

Hunk’s hand slapped over his mouth, and Lance sputtered as he pushed him away and sat up. “Hunk!”

Hunk matched his glare. His mask had dried to a bright yellow. “L’nce. I c’n’t move m’ face.”

 

“Ohh. Sorry, buddy. You can wash it off now.”

 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hunk was up and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. “Don’t forget to moisturize,” Lance called after him as he laid back on the floor again, listening to the distant sounds of water splashing and the quieted roars of Mechagodzilla on the TV. Hunk was back a couple minutes later, cheeks pink from scrubbing the dried clay off.

 

Lance gave him a thumbs up as he sat down. “Lookin’ good, dude.”

 

Hunk patted his face. “I feel fresh as a daisy,” he deadpanned, grinning as Lance snorted. “Seriously, though, man, please don’t talk about what kinds of sinful acts you want to perform with Keith. That’s between the two of you.”

 

“I  _ wish  _ it was.”

 

Hunk ignored the innuendo. “You’re right, though, you guys  _ do  _ need to talk. Which is why you should go to bed now so you can deliver his car as soon as possible!”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at him as Hunk grabbed his wrists and hauled him upright. “I can’t help but feel like this is actually a plot to get you in bed sooner.”

 

With pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Hunk shook his head. “Nope, definitely not. Definitely not that.” 

 

Lance watched him fumble with the remote for a second before he found the power button, still wearing that too-innocent look. “Uh huh.”

 

“Listen, buddy, I love you, but it’s five in the morning, and I think the best thing you can do right now is try to get some sleep.”

 

Relenting, Lance gathered their face mask stuff off the coffee table. “I guess you’re right.”

 

“There you go.”

 

Hunk turned the lights off as Lance dumped the products back in the bathroom, taking a moment to peel off his own mask and carefully moisturize his skin. The stress of the week had been hell on it.

 

Hunk covered a yawn as he stepped into his bedroom. “Night, dude. Things’ll be better tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,  _ maybe,”  _ Lance muttered as he walked into his own bedroom.

 

“They will, you’ll see.”

 

Lance sighed, mustering the best smile he could as he rested his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks, Hunk. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for, you know?”

 

“Back atcha, buddy.”

 

***

 

Lance turned the engine of Keith’s car off with a sigh, although he left the keys in and the radio playing for the moment as he drummed his fingers against the wheel and very pointedly avoided staring at the apartment building. Christ, he was too tired for this. Even though his talk with-- at?-- Hunk had calmed him down a little, he hadn’t slept much. He just kept going over and over what Keith said to him, at the Planet, in the car, right there on the sidewalk ten feet from where he now sat, absently humming along to “Tell It to My Heart.” Taylor Dayne was so right--  _ was  _ this really love, or just a game?

 

But honestly, he knew that he was just deluding himself now. Whatever it was, there was  _ something  _ Keith was feeling. Lance had felt it in his words last night. He’d felt it in the moment of tension on New Year’s, right before Keith had leaned in and kissed him.

 

That was the problem, though. This had all been so much easier to deal with--  _ ignore,  _ whatever-- when he hadn’t been sure. It was why he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Now it just felt like there was something to lose.

 

That fear kept him frozen in place, sitting in the car of the one person who suddenly seemed to be the center of his whole life. If the universe had a consciousness, if there was something out there in charge of some greater plan, it would be laughing at him right then.

 

“Tell It to My Heart” faded out, replaced by the piano-synth notes of a familiar opening, and Lance gaped at the radio. “No…”

 

_ “I can’t fight this feeling any longer, and yet I’m still afraid to let it show…” _

 

_ “No,”  _ Lance repeated, but REO Speedwagon continued singing with no regard at all for his feelings about it. Slamming a hand against the wheel, Lance leaned forward to howl at the sky out the windshield. “How could you, universe?! You can’t kick a guy when he’s down like this! This is cruel and unusual! This is a conspiracy! This is--”

 

He yelped as someone knocked on the passenger window. Clutching his chest, Lance blinked at Shiro for a second before he rolled the window down, trying for nonchalance. “Oh, hey, Shiro, man, what’s up?”

 

“Well, Lance, I was just on my way to Matt’s and I couldn’t help but notice you sitting in my brother’s car, yelling at no one.”

 

Lance deflated. “Ah.”

 

“Ah,” Shiro echoed, a faint smile on his face. “Everything okay?”

 

Lance nodded, leaning casually against the wheel. “Yep, everything’s good. Great, even. Just-- really fantastic day, you know?”

 

“I’m sure,” Shiro said, sending Lance another look. “Why are you in Keith’s car, anyways?”

 

“Hunk and I gave him a ride back from the Planet last night, since he was so tired, so we just went and got it for him today so he wouldn’t be, you know, stranded.”

 

Shiro arched an eyebrow. “I could have done that, you know.”

 

The thought hadn’t actually occurred to Lance. “I mean-- well, yeah, but…”

 

“Or you could have just given Keith a ride.”

 

“Well,  _ yeah,  _ but…”

 

Shiro waited for a second before saying, “Are you finally going to talk to him?”

 

“Hey, man,” Lance started hotly, “I  _ tried.  _ It’s not my fault your brother has the attitude of a sixteen-year-old Fallout Boy fan.”

 

“You like him anyways.”

 

That knocked the wind right out of Lance’s sails  _ again.  _ “Stop  _ doing  _ that.”

 

Shiro chuckled as he straightened. “Text me when it’s safe to come home, okay? And try not to break anything, please.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt with a scowl.

 

“And Lance?”

 

“What?”

 

Shiro gave him a searching look. “I know you’re still upset, and you have every right to be, but try to listen to him, okay? He’s not great at talking.”

 

“I  _ know.”  _ At the hard look Shiro gave him, Lance sighed. “I know, Shiro. I’ll try. I  _ am  _ trying.”

 

“That’s all I ask.”

 

Lance stared blankly at the book sitting in between the seats as Shiro patted the roof of the car and started walking. “Say hi to Pidge for me,” he called after him.

 

“Will do.”

 

Another few lines slipped by before Lance muttered, “Fuck this,” and yanked the keys out of the ignition, cutting the song off abruptly. He slammed the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary, striding across the pavement to the stairs and taking them at a jog.

 

He paused in front of the door, staring at the cracked paint, fingers curling into fists before relaxing, over and over again. This was it; the literal last barrier. He could turn around now and just-- leave. Go home. Never have to face this. Never have to give words to the hard knot of tangled emotion in his chest. Yeah, Shiro was right, he was upset. 

 

But mostly, he was just sick of this.

 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the door.

 

It took Keith exactly sixteen seconds to open the door, and Lance spent every one of them panicking. What the hell was he  _ doing?  _ He wasn’t ready for this!

 

But his last shreds of courage kept him rooted to the spot as the door swung open. Keith actually looked surprised to see him, and that now-familiar wariness was back, but there was a hint of that vulnerability Lance had seen last night in his thundercloud eyes, so he swallowed hard and hung on.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hi,” Keith replied, one hand still on the door.

 

Lance held up the keys. “I, um, brought your car back.”

 

“Oh, thanks.” Keith reached out to take them, and Lance ignored the way his heart stuttered as their fingers brushed. Not now, dammit. He was cool. He could do this. “You know, Shiro could have given me a ride.” His eyes met Lance’s as he spoke, questioning, searching for something, and Lance recognized it as an out. One last chance for him to just walk away, and for this whole mess to just get-- swept away.  _ Ignored. _

 

Lance was done with ignoring. “Yeah, I know. That offer to talk still stand?”

 

“Always,” Keith said after a heavy second, caution giving way to a soft, almost  _ exposed _ look, and he stood aside to let Lance in.

 

With barely a second of hesitation, Lance stepped inside.

 

Keith closed the door behind him, waiting as Lance kicked off his shoes before leading him into the living room. There was a blanket tossed across the back of the couch, like someone had just thrown it off. Lance glanced at the image frozen on the TV. “Whatcha watching?” he asked.

 

Keith blinked like he was surprised, and maybe Lance should have expected that. They weren’t exactly at a  _ small talk  _ level right then. He just couldn’t stand the weird tension in the air. Fuck, Keith was sitting there on his couch, six feet away from him, and Lance  _ missed  _ him.

 

“A documentary on the Voyager spacecraft,” he answered after a beat.

 

Lance let out an interested noise as he sat down on the other end of the couch. “Is it good?”

 

Keith shrugged. “I like it.”

 

“‘Course you do,” Lance teased, letting a soft smile creep onto his face. “I bet you were a space kid.”

 

A long moment passed where Keith just stared at him before his eyes narrowed. “... Was not.”

 

“I bet Shiro has  _ pictures.”  _

 

“Like  _ you  _ didn’t have a thing as a kid.”

 

“Okay, one, you just admitted to it, and two, I was a dinosaur kid and proud of it.”

 

Keith snorted. “Whatever, Littlefoot.”

 

“Mullet,” Lance gasped theatrically, “was that a  _ Land Before Time  _ reference?”

 

“Lance, why are you here?”

 

The question sobered him up immediately. “I told you. To talk.”

 

_ “Talk  _ talk, or pretend-like-everything’s-normal talk?”

 

“Talk talk.” Lance laced his fingers across his knees, studying the frayed spot on his jeans to avoid Keith’s gaze.

 

It was quiet for a long moment before Keith said, “You know, to talk, you usually have to say something.”

 

“I  _ tried.”  _ The words came in a frustrated burst, and Lance sighed shortly, burying his head in his hands. “No, sorry, I’m not here to yell. Just-- Look, Keith, why did you kiss me?” He looked over as he asked it and their eyes locked briefly, before Keith glanced away.

 

“Why do you think I kissed you?”

 

And hello, there was the anger again. “No, nonono, you do  _ not  _ get to do that,” Lance said hotly, turning to face him fully, one leg folded up underneath him. “You promised you’d talk last night.”

 

Keith shot him a glare. “Yeah, I did, but it’s not like this is easy,” he snapped. “Especially with the emotional whiplash.”

 

“The  _ what?” _

 

“Lance, really? Last night you’re all pissed, now you come in here joking about dinosaurs like nothing even happened. Makes it a little hard to actually figure out what the hell you’re feeling.”

 

“Of  _ course  _ I was pissed, asshole!” Lance was shouting now, he knew he was, but there was so much about this whole situation that was just  _ so  _ unfair, and he was tired of bottling it all up. “Fuck, man, you straight up  _ ignored  _ me the other night. No, worse, you acted like we were strangers. Like-- Like we weren’t even  _ friends. _ How the fuck was I supposed to react? I thought…”

 

Keith’s eyes flashed as he floundered, lost for words. “You thought what?”

 

And Lance was  _ so done.  _ “I thought the dude I like a  _ stupid  _ amount didn’t even want to  _ talk  _ to me!”

 

Keith went from furious to dumbstruck in the span of a second. “You… what?”

 

“I like you!” Lance repeated, still at top volume. “Asshole! I like you a lot! And you didn’t even give me a chance to  _ tell  _ you before you started  _ shutting me out.” _

 

Keith’s mouth hung open for another second before he snapped it shut, back to anger. “How was I supposed to know that? When I kissed you, it looked like the worst thing that had ever happened to you.”

 

_ “Because I was kicking myself for ignoring it for so long.”  _ Lance ran a hand through his hair, laughing a little wildly. “Did you really think I’m the kind of douche who would be pissed about that, anyways? Come on, man, that’s not fair.”

 

“Well,  _ you  _ thought me kissing you meant nothing. That’s not fair either.”

 

“Because you walked away without saying anything!”

 

“What was I supposed to say?”

 

“I don’t-- How should I know? You were supposed to say  _ something!  _ Why you did that! What you were feeling! Fuck, _ anything.” _

 

“I’m not good with words,” Keith said, but his voice had lowered.

 

Lance made an effort to reign his own feelings in. “I get that, dude, but I can’t-- you have to say  _ something,  _ okay? My brain isn’t...” He took a deep breath. “I need to hear things like that. You gotta say them.”

 

Keith tilted his head. Lance wasn’t angry enough still to not admit to himself how fucking cute it was. “Why?”

 

With a sigh, Lance dropped his eyes back to his knees, picking at the frayed spot in his jeans. “I’m not good at-- you know. Assuming things. Inferring things. Whatever.”

 

“But I kissed you,” Keith said after a second.

 

“Yes, thank you, Keith, I was there.”

 

Lance couldn’t resist glancing back up at him, and Keith’s dark eyes caught his again. “You can’t really think that meant nothing, right?”

 

“I dunno,” Lance mumbled, turning his attention back to the unraveling bit of denim, “did it?”

 

“Lance.”

 

Unwillingly, Lance raised his eyes, arching a brow.

 

“You really wanna know what I was thinking that night?” Keith asked, searching his face. 

 

Lance crossed his arms and threw it out like a challenge. “Enlighten me.”

 

Keith’s face darkened, but he kept his words level. “I was thinking about how much it meant to me that you were there. That you cared if I came, that I had a good time. Fuck, that you  _ always  _ cared about me. Even when we first met and you were a dick for no reason, you always paid attention. You helped me up in the corn maze. You picked me up in the rain. I was thinking about how much that matters to me, Lance. You’re a good person, and a really good friend, and I  _ really  _ like you.  _ That  _ was what I was thinking about.”

 

It kind of felt like someone had hit Lance in the chest. “Oh,” he wheezed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was another long moment of silence as they leaned back and considered each other’s words.

 

“So,” Lance said slowly, “you like me.”

 

Keith groaned. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

 

“Mm, I’m not sure I believe it yet though. One more time?”

 

“Lance.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “I believe you.”

 

“And you like me.”

 

He gulped. “Mmhm.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I told you,” Lance sighed, some of the fluttery euphoria of the last couple minutes draining out of him, “I  _ tried.  _ The other night, outside the Planet.”

 

Keith winced. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too,” Lance sighed. “I shouldn’t have let you shut me out. I should have tried harder.”

 

Keith scowled, so familiar and adorable Lance’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “Well, I shouldn’t have shut you out in the first place.”

 

“I shouldn’t have let you walk away without saying something,” Lance countered, holding back a growing smile.

 

Keith threw his hands in the air. “I shouldn’t have walked away! Dammit, Lance, I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

 

The smile disappeared. “You still regret it?”

 

“Not like that.” Keith sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just wish we didn’t have to do this whole…” He gestured between them, vaguely. “... thing.”

 

“Me too,” Lance relied, truthfully. He hesitated for only a second before reaching a foot out to nudge Keith’s knee. “Kinda don’t think we could have done it any other way, though. I mean, it  _ is  _ us.”

 

“I hate us.”

 

“Speak for yourself, I’m not so bad.”

 

Grinning, Lance waited for him to meet his eyes. Keith huffed a laugh when he finally did, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

“In fact,” Lance began, tapping a finger against his chin, “I’m pretty sure I remembered someone saying something a few minutes ago about how much they like--” A pillow in his face stopped the rest of his words.

 

“Nope,” Keith said as Lance spluttered, “don’t remember that.”

 

Lance chucked the pillow back at him. “You  _ ass.” _

 

Tilting his head again, a challenging light in his eyes, Keith asked, “What are you gonna do about it?”

 

Lance gaped at him. “Keith Kogane, did you just  _ flirt  _ with me?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well-- I-- you--” As Lance struggled for words, Keith started laughing. “Oh my  _ god,”  _ Lance wailed, scooting down the couch until he could lay on his back and throw his hands over his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

 

“You sure about that? Because I seem to recall someone saying something--”

 

Lance lunged forward, knocking him flat and using Keith’s own pillow to smother him. “Nuh uh, don’t you dare use my own line against me.”

 

“But it’s true, right?” Keith’s words were muffled.

 

After a second, Lance pulled the pillow away, looking down at him. “Maybe.”

 

Keith’s eyes narrowed, even as a smile pulled at his lips. “Now who’s playing dirty?”

 

Lance couldn’t resist that set up. With an outrageous wiggle of his eyebrows, he said,  _ “‘Dirty,’  _ eh?”

 

“Lance,” Keith groaned as he brought a hand up to cradle the back of his head, “shut up.”

 

Lance didn’t even have time to think of a reply before Keith was kissing him, lips still soft yet chapped, just like Lance remembered. He wound his own hands into Keith’s hair, letting a happy sigh part his own lips against Keith.

 

After a couple moments, Keith pulled away, dropping his head back down. His other hand came up to cradle Lance’s jaw, though, thumb running softly across his cheekbone, and when he smiled it was so bright and beautiful it took Lance’s breath away.

 

He leaned back down to kiss him again, mumbling, “Dude, this took way too long,” against Keith’s mouth.

 

Keith wrinkled his nose. “Can you please not call me dude when we’re making out?”

 

Lance propped himself up on his elbows, grinning down at him. “Keith, Mullet, babe, honey, sweetheart, darling,  _ querido, cariño, mi amor, mi vida--” _

 

Keith’s hand came up to clap over his mouth. “Enough of that, thank-- oh my god, Lance, did you just  _ lick  _ me?”

 

“You’re blushing!” Lance crowed, unashamed. “Oh my god, Keith, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Keith grumbled again, pulling him back down. Lance went happily.

 

It was a while before Lance broke away again, panting a little. “You should tell your brother we haven’t killed each other.”

 

“Mm.” Keith pressed a line of kisses down Lance’s jaw, and he shuddered a little. “He can wait a while.”

 

Lance nodded as Keith trailed down towards his collarbone. “Mmhm, yep, fair, sure, I see your point--”

 

Keith let his head drop back against the couch, squinting at Lance. “You talk a lot.”

 

“It’s one of my charms.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Charms, I may add, that you are charmed by.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

Tracing his eyes over Keith, stretched out underneath him, Lance tried his best to not audibly swallow. “And therefore, you can’t complain about them.”

 

“We’ll see.” Keith kissed him again, short and sweet. “Seriously, what’s up?”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow at him. “With what?”

 

Keith used a knee to nudge him in the side. “C’mon, Lance.”

 

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Lance tried to lean back down, but Keith stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Mullet,” he whined.

 

“No more kisses until you tell me.”

 

“What, seriously? Are you gonna pull that out whenever you want something now?”

 

A corner of Keith’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I think Pidge would call it ‘being whipped.’”

 

“New rule,  _ cariño,  _ no mentioning our friends when we’re making out, either.”

 

“We’re not making out, we’re just laying here. Talking.” Keith poked him on the nose, in a move so adorable Lance just about melted on the spot. “So talk,  _ cariño.” _

 

Lance snickered. “Christ, your accent is terrible.”

 

“I took, like, two years of Spanish in high school. Sue me.”

 

“We’ll practice,” Lance assured him, capturing his lips in another lingering kiss before Keith pushed him away again.

 

“Mm, no, talk. I don’t want to...I can’t do last week again. You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

“Fine,” Lance relented, “but that goes both ways.”

 

Keith nodded firmly. “Promise.”

 

“Promise,” Lance echoed, smiling down at him.

 

Keith’s thumb stroked his cheekbone again. “So what’s up?”

 

Lance screwed his nose up for a second, trying to think of another way to say it, before sighing explosively. Keith’s bangs ruffled. “Are we dating now?”

 

The movement of Keith’s thumb stilled. “Lance. Seriously?”

 

“What?”

 

“We’ve spent the better part of the last half hour kissing. Yeah, we’re dating.”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Lance said in a rush, dropping his head down to rest in the crook of Keith’s shoulder. “I have the hottest boyfriend in the whole world.”

 

Keith laughed, fingers toying with Lance’s hair. “Is that why you like me? For my looks?”

 

Pushing himself back up a few inches, Lance looked him in the eye. “No,” he said seriously. “You’re also smart, and funny, and sweet--”

 

“Oh my god,  _ stop.” _

 

“--and,” Lance continued, straightfaced, “the biggest dork I know. Like, seriously, man, what a dweeb--”

 

Keith shoved a pillow into his face, and Lance reared back, straddling Keith’s thighs as he cackled. “And  _ I,”  _ Keith said loudly, “have the most annoying boyfriend in the whole world.”

 

Lance shot him a cheesy wink. “Only for you, Mullet.”

 

Sitting up, Keith reached up to cup his face again. “I know,” he murmured against his lips, and Lance let himself melt into the feeling, looping his arms around Keith’s waist to pull him in close, so much warmth and happiness bubbling up in his chest he started to choke up a little. Breaking their kiss, he leaned his forehead against Keith’s, taking a moment to just  _ breathe. _

 

“What now?” he asked after a minute.

 

Keith was quiet for a second before pulling back, dropping his hands to Lance’s shoulders and sliding them down to tangle their fingers together. “Now, we order takeout and watch Netflix and call it our first date.” 

 

He said it firmly, but there was a flicker of anxiety in his eyes. Lance pecked him on the lips, squeezing his hands as he smiled at him. “Sounds perfect.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's pretty short and it's the end and it's making me tragically sad  
> But, of course, none of it would've happened without all of you. You are the most wonderful people and any comments or kudos make my fucking day. I don't know what we did to deserve you and I don't think I'll ever know. Needless to say, I'm so grateful.  
> Also, this wouldn't have happened without Camille who came up with the idea and also asked me to write it with her. Saying yes was the easiest thing I've ever done. I was gonna write things fantastically sweet here for you, because you said unfairly nice things about me, but now that I'm here all I've got is that I love you and I'm so proud of what we've done here and I'm proud of you.  
> Also also, [lyghtbulb did more absolutely wonderful art for us and I'm still not over it](https://lyghtbulb.tumblr.com/post/167920304943/some-more-doodles-for-the-amazing-fic-cant-fight)   
> Anyway, this is it. I hope you enjoy it. You all deserve that much. <3

Yawning, Keith ambled into the Planet, trying to pump himself for a shift he really wasn’t prepared for. He and Lance had been up much too late last night and much too early this morning, because it turned out that once Lance got properly excited about something, it was nearly impossible to get him to relax until he legitimately exhausted himself, like a puppy.

 

It would be irritating if Keith didn’t find it so goddamn endearing.

 

In fact, Lance was largely irresistible now. That also should’ve been irritating, but Keith couldn’t find it in himself to bother. He was happy and doing his best to properly enjoy it.

 

Eyes automatically scanning the Planet for Lance, Keith spotted him behind the counter, grinning in Keith’s direction. “Someone’s late,” he declared.

 

“By, like, a minute.”

 

“Still counts, Mullet.”

 

“Nobody asked you, Lance.”

 

By this point, Hunk had wandered out of the kitchen curiously and Pidge had looked up from her phone. Briefly, Keith was curious what they were thinking, but then Lance moved, smile bright, steps light and bouncy. Slipping into Keith’s space like he belonged there--something Keith didn’t begrudge in the slightest--Lance lowered his voice to say, “Long time no see.”

 

“A whole six hours.”

 

“A  _ long _ six hours,” Lance whined. “An unnecessary six hours, too.”

 

“Your shower is not big enough for two people.”

 

“It totally is. We could’ve done it. Where’s the faith? The determination?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith said, “I really don’t need to argue about this again.”

 

“You brought it up.”

 

“What are you two even doing over there?” Pidge called.

 

Turning his head, revealing a swathe of warm, brown skin, Lance said, “I’m flirting with my boyfriend, Pidgeon, it’s romantic and adorable.”

 

“Keith keeps rolling his eyes.”

 

“He’s still learning.”

 

“Alternatively, it’s how I flirt.”

 

Laughing, Lance’s voice fell into a softer register. “Yeah.”

 

“I need to clock in.”

 

“Do you promise to come right back?”

 

“Well, then I need to work. That’s kind of how it goes, you know.”

 

Pidge, who had managed to creep closer without either Lance or Keith noticing, said, “He wouldn’t, actually. Nobody but Hunk actually works in this place, remember?”

 

Clutching his chest, Lance said, “God, where did you come from? Warn a man.”

 

Flicking her eyes between the two of them, Pidge said, “When Hunk filled me in, I wasn’t sure I believed it, because the two of you are actually incapable of having a normal conversation. You were too busy being dumbasses. I still don’t understand how it happened.”

 

“There was lots of shouting,” Keith said.

 

“It’s only because I care,” Lance said.

 

Snorting, Keith tilted his head up and kissed the corner of Lance’s mouth. They were in the early days, everything fresh and new and exciting and daring, so it was more than enough to distract Lance and give Keith an opportunity to get away without struggle. 

 

When Pidge said, “Ugh, god, you’re so gross, stop,” Keith didn’t have to be looking at Lance to know exactly what expression was on his face. Whenever it had fallen silent between them last night, it had been Lance’s go-to, smile somewhere between dopey and dreamy.

 

It was a smile Keith desperately tried to keep off his face. He admired Lance so much for not even bothering.

 

After he clocked in, Keith shoved his hat onto his head, frowning, still hating everything about it, but then Lance came over, took it off his head, turned it around and put it back on and Keith decided maybe he didn’t. Leaning in, Lance lingered for a moment, their noses brushing together, then he pressed a quick kiss to Keith’s lips. “What if we don’t work?” he said. “Hunk and Pidge have totally got this. And it’s not like Coran is gonna fire us. He loves us too much.”

 

Flipping his hat back around, Keith smiled. “Already clocked in. Sorry.”

 

Shaking his head, Lance sighed mournfully and did the same. Leaning heavily against Keith, Lance let out a low whine. “Now I have to go answer phones and, like, talk to people.”

 

“You like doing that.”

 

“I mean, sort of. Customers suck.”

 

“I’m just saying it could be worse.”

 

“Yeah, but I  _ could _ be making out with my boyfriend in a booth.”

 

Grinning despite himself, Keith shrugged Lance off him, kissed his cheek and said, “Catch me on a break, babe.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Laughing softly, Keith turned and headed for his booth, ready to await whatever orders Hunk had ready for him. Unsurprisingly, Lance trailed after him, still mumbling to himself, most of it complete and utter nonsense. When he finally spoke louder, all he said—yelled, actually—was, “Oh my god,” again.

 

Hunk rushed out of the kitchen, sauce ladle still in hand, and glanced between Lance and Keith. “Everyone okay?” he asked nervously.

 

“Oh yeah, sorry, buddy,” Lance replied. “Keith just caught me by surprise.”

 

Hunk rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide. “We’re here to work and make money, you know.” When Lance moaned pitifully, groaning about how he didn’t need to be reminded, Hunk softened completely and came over to Keith, who watched him warily. Without blinking, Hunk lifted him out of the booth and into a hug, one that Lance was quickly a part of. “I’m so proud of you guys,” Hunk said.

 

“Can I not be a part of this?” Keith asked.

 

“Nope, sorry,  _ babe _ . Hunk’s earned this one.”

 

“There’s definitely sauce dripping down my shirt.”

 

“Too bad.”

 

“You want sauce dripping down your shirt? Because I can definitely make that happen.”

 

“God,” Lance said, “why can’t you just enjoy something for once in your life?”

 

“Because there is sauce dripping down my shirt!”

 

“Yes, we know, Keith.”

 

“The second I get out of this hug, I’m murdering you,” Keith mumbled, patting Hunk awkwardly on the back, in case it wasn’t clear that he was ready to be let go now. 

 

Getting the message, Hunk dropped them. Glaring at Lance, Keith immediately took off his shirt and headed for the bathroom, sighing when he saw the dribbles of sauce on his back in the mirror and a dark stain on the inside of his shirt.

 

It wasn’t really a surprise when Lance showed up. It was obvious work today was going to more on the play side of the scale. 

 

Surprisingly, though, he didn’t say anything. He just gently tugged the paper towel from Keith’s hand and began to wipe his back in short, efficient strokes.

 

“I could’ve reached,” Keith said.

 

“I know.”

 

“Couldn’t he have set the ladle down?”

 

“Probably didn’t think about it.”

 

Sighing, Keith worked on removing what he could from his shirt. By now, it was all wiped off his back, but Lance’s fingers didn’t disappear. The paper towel between their skin disappeared and Lance carefully traced Keith’s spine. A light shiver passed through Keith’s body and he said, “Are you really feeling me up in the bathroom where we work?” His voice was only a little shaky and he was impressed with that.

 

“I’m admiring, Mullet. Duh.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I mean, I know there’s plenty of time to do that, but it’s right here in front of me. I’m not just going to ignore this lovely…spine. Sounded better in my head.”

 

“Uh huh,” Keith said, feeling flutters in his stomach. The idea that Lance thought they had ‘plenty of time’ made him both nervous, unsure, and radiantly happy. There was no telling if Lance would stay, but it was nice to imagine he would. Keith could almost believe it. He was closer to believing it than he’d ever been before. 

 

Lance pressed a delicate kiss to his shoulder.

 

“How is it,” Keith whispered, “that ten seconds ago I was ready to shove your head into that toilet and now…”

 

“Now what?” Lance asked, smirking.

 

“Ugh, never mind. I’m going to go do my job. Excuse me.”

 

Bodily, Lance got in his way, still smiling. Rolling his eyes, Keith jabbed him in the stomach with a finger, barely managing to dodge a jab of Lance’s own. Immediately, it became clear they were about to have a full-out poke war, so Keith scurried out of the bathroom. As he threw on his shirt and fixed his hair, it occurred to him how that might have looked, especially since Hunk and Pidge were blinking at him, their mouths hanging open.

 

“In  _ this _ bathroom?” Pidge asked. “Seriously?”

 

“We didn’t…”

 

“Sure you didn’t.”

 

“Whatever,” Keith said. “Got orders ready for me Hunk?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Thank god.”

 

Lance had come out of the bathroom by then and he shouted, “I’ll think of you fondly while you’re away.”

 

“If you’re curious,” Pidge said, “he’s waving a paper towel like it’s a handkerchief.” She proceeded to cackle at Keith’s face, which he was sure was a mixture between exasperation and utter fondness.

 

Sighing, he raised a hand above his head as he continued on into the kitchen, and flipped him off.

 

***

 

On his ten, Keith disappeared to the bar, not because he wanted to be away from Lance, but because he was desperate for a little alone time and a soda, something to perk him up. He felt less tired than he should—he expected that had something to do with the champagne burst of his heart whenever Lance stood within five feet of him—but distantly, he knew three in the morning would hit hard.

 

Shiro caught his eye the second he leaned up against the bar and slid him a Coke a few minutes later. Weaving past Matt with a flirtatious smile, Shiro said, “So how was your night last night?”

 

“Like I’d tell you.”

 

“I think the blush says enough.”

 

“This is not what I came here for.”

 

“Did you really think you could walk in here and not get at least lightly teased?” Shiro asked, eyes sparkling. Despite himself, Keith smiled. That was the only expression he ever wanted to put on Shiro’s face. A small voice in the back of his mind told Keith that he could keep it there. All he had to do was indulge Shiro. And, honestly, it would be nice to tell  _ someone _ about it. Turned out, Lance was uncontainable, even like this, when something between them was private enough that it could just be  _ theirs _ .

 

Lowering his head, Keith smiled just a little and said, “It was good.”

 

Any maybe it wasn’t a lot, but judging by the blinding smile it was returned with, Shiro knew just how far those words extended. “About time, huh?”

 

“Yeah.” And it was. Not just for him and Lance, but for the feeling that he was going to be okay, that with more time, he was going to grow into this reality that life had given him and make it his. It made a difference when there were people who believed you could.

 

“Life has a way of unraveling its own knots, doesn’t it?”

 

“Okay, I definitely didn’t come here for a lecture,” Keith said, downing the rest of his drink. “Especially not in Hallmark card sayings.”

 

“Did you just call me Hallmark?”

 

“Yes. I did.”

 

“Matt,” Shiro called, “Keith just called me Hallmark.”

 

“I love you, babe, but he’s not wrong,” Matt shouted back.

 

Laughing, Keith slid off the stool and went back to work, not missing the way Lance’s smile grew impossibly larger when Keith walked back in.

 

***

 

The later the night got, the further into chaos the Planet descended. They were close to dead, leaving them enough time to slack off and screw around more than any boss would prefer. And it wasn’t just him and Lance. Even Hunk was incapable of doing more than absolutely necessary and at a consistently slower pace than usual. Lance’s electric energy had done its work.

 

“Lance,” Hunk whined, “we’ve already had a karaoke contest, “The Voice” style. We probably shouldn’t add a napkin fight to the list.”

 

Idly, Lance tugged another napkin from the dispenser, rolled it up, and tossed it at Hunk’s back. It fell short. Keith smiled lazily, watching from his booth, wondering what exactly a napkin fight looked like. They were more likely to fall short than hit by a significant margin.

 

“I’ve got pizza to make.”

 

“Buddy, I know there are no orders. I take them.”

 

“But…”

 

This time, one of Lance’s napkin balls actually hit. 

 

Hunk stared at it, lying on the floor.

 

Snorting, Keith called, “Leave him alone, Lance. You know he doesn’t like breaking rules.”

 

“Yeah,” Hunk said, pointing at Keith. “That.”

 

Swiveling, Lance grinned. “You like breaking them, Mullet?”

 

Keith shrugged.

 

Strolling over, Lance leaned flirtatiously up against the table. “You know, you take some of my best material and ruin it with your shrugs and grunts and eye rolls.”

 

“I haven’t seen any of your best material, have I?”

 

“You’re so  _ mean _ ,” Lance said, dropping down into Keith’s lap. It was unexpected and suddenly Lance was right  _ there _ and any hope of acting like Lance’s attention had absolutely no effect on him dissipated. Fluttering his lashes--distantly, Keith was aware it was ridiculous--Lance brushed their noses together and whispered, “How’s this?”

 

“It’s, uh, fine.”

 

“I’m gonna get you to break, Mullet, just you watch.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

Laughing loudly, Lance leaned back as far as he could, the table likely digging into his back, and slung his arms loosely around Keith’s neck. Tilting his head, he gazed at Keith curiously. Then he lifted one hand to his hair and ruffled it. The only trace of humor was in the tilt of his mouth, as he tugged gently on the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck and lowered his head, almost shyly, looking up from underneath his lashes. “You’re in trouble, baby, because this is the one thing I know how to do,” he said.

 

Keith blinked.

 

He liked to think he could’ve lasted through that show if it hadn’t reminded him of Lance this morning, sitting up in bed, ruffling his hair, and sleepily smiling at Keith, seconds away from kissing his forehead, but he probably couldn’t have.

 

“God, just kiss me would you?” was what came out. For a beat, those words hung between them and then Keith tacked on, “Clearly you’re not going to go away until you get to.”

 

“Nice save.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Snorting, Lance closed the distance between them, capturing Keith’s lips, softer than Lance’s exhale when their lips parted and the kiss deepened.

 

“Hey,” Pidge yelled, more than one napkin hitting Keith, “stop being gross.”

 

“Never, Pidgeotto,” Lance said, giving Keith one more kiss for good measure.

 

“Please tell me it isn’t going to always be like this now.”

 

“God, I hope so,” Lance said for Keith’s ears only.

 

Grinning, Keith said, “For the record, flirting is not the only thing you’re good at.”

 

“Are you complimenting my kissing?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Smooth.”

 

“You’re also good at being a friend and lighting up a room and…”

 

Lance interrupted him with a kiss. 

 

***

 

It was very late, Matt and Shiro had arrived, ‘The Final Countdown’ had played, and they’d already done practically everything they needed to do for close. Essentially, they were all tired and bored out of their mind. Even Keith had crashed, sitting next to Shiro in a booth and openly watching Lance move around the Planet.

 

Unsurprisingly, Lance headed straight for the jukebox, declaring something about livening the place up. A good chunk of his words were eaten up either by the haze Keith had had to break out of and the loud groans from everyone present that quickly followed.

 

“Nobody wants to be livened,” Pidge complained. “We want to sleep.”

 

“We’ve got an hour until sleep. Might as well enjoy it.”

 

“I regret trying to make you and Keith happen.”

 

Lance glared at her. A few minutes later, he let out a joyful yelp and an upbeat guitar was quickly followed by snapping and trumpeting. There was just enough time for Keith to wonder if he knew the song before Lance was standing before him, hand extended.

 

“No,” Keith said.

 

“Please?”

 

Glaring at him, Keith took Lance’s hand.

 

Laughing, Lance said, “God, you’re such a pushover. Who knew?”

 

“I’ll murder you in your sleep,” Keith grumbled.   
  
“Sure you will.”

 

Keith was about to say he had no idea how to dance--something Lance already knew--when Lance began to sing loudly, taking the song from the top. He took both of Keith’s hands in his and spun them around, urging Keith with small tugs and gentle pushes to move his body to the beat.

 

When the chorus hit, Keith said, “Hey! I know this song! It’s, uh…’September’?” When Lance cheered, Keith flushed with pride.

 

“Fucking finally,” Pidge grumbled. “Does that mean we can all go home? That feels like a sign.”

 

“Nope,” Lance replied, releasing Keith and dancing over to the booths, poking and prodding everyone until they were all up. And in the center of the Planet, while still on the clock, they were all dancing, most grudgingly. The laughter, however, was real and Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever been so happy. Especially when Lance wound his way back to him and stepped in close, slinging his arms around Keith’s waist.

 

“You suck at dancing,” Lance said.

 

“You already knew that.”

 

“That’s true, babe, that’s true, but I didn’t remember it being this bad.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I love it,” Lance smiled.

 

Blushing, Keith rolled his eyes. Lance spun them around, Keith’s gaze flashing past the front door. Only loud enough to be heard over the song and Lance’s singing, Keith said, “I think I’m actually glad I came here. I think I’m actually glad I left college.” As he said the words, he realized just how true they were. And from a, frankly, stupidly impulsive decision, that had to be one of the best outcomes.

 

Lance’s eyes softened. “You’re gonna tell me about that someday, right?”

 

“Sure,” Keith said, heart beating heavily.

 

“Cool.”

 

“What?”

 

“You did notice my use of the word ‘someday’ right? ‘Cause, like, it doesn’t have to be for a really long time if you want. I like the idea that this might last awhile. Or something. Not that…”

 

“I’m not going anywhere, dumbass.”

 

“Don’t call me a dumbass!”

 

“I’m just telling the truth.”

 

“Oh, sure, get all superior about it.”

 

With a smile, Keith stopped dancing and kissed Lance on the mouth. As expected, that shut him up. And as long as that worked, this was going to work.

 

This was going to work for a very long time.


End file.
